


Forty Days in the Wilderness

by Skyrider45



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Author accidentally puts Betty through more trauma, Because these poor kids, But she actually gets therapy too, Canon - mostly, Complicated Relationships, Core Four Friendship, Drama, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FP trying to be a good dad and sheriff, Family Drama, Healing, Kidnapping, Philosophy, Poor girl doesn't need it, So does everyone else to an extent, Some death, Suspense, Tags Are Hard, Teenagers Being Actual Teenagers, Therapy, Time & Memory, What does it mean to heal, because I believe in actual character development, eventual falice, for all the characters, my idea for Season 4, some violence, the actual season 4 has been thrown out the window
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2020-10-18 11:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 112,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20638766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyrider45/pseuds/Skyrider45
Summary: As the teens of Riverdale begin their senior year, hope seems to be stirring for the town - however, old threats come knocking and new mysteries surface. When one of the Core Four go missing, will the others be able to save them in time, all while battling their inner demons, family issues, and the fallout of recent events?My take on Season 4. Nothing about the current on-air Season 4 is canon.Some mature content on violence, kidnapping, PTSD, and mental health struggles, but not enough in my opinion for a full "graphic" warning.





	1. Requiem For A Dream

_Riverdale - once the town with pep - had undergone many nicknames and monikers since Jason Blossom's murder. Murdertown. The town with death. The outside world didn't know what to think of us anymore. The Black Hood. The Red Daliah. Gargoyle king. Druglords playing the town like a fiddle. Riverdale had been through so much – changed - since the sleepy town had awoken to a missing and murdered teen. _

Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Jughead Jones lifted his swift fingers from the keyboard just long enough to take a large gulp of coffee. He looked over his most recent paragraph, mouthing the words as he went, checking for typos. He looked over the top of his laptop towards the small collection of customers spread around the booths at Pop's Chock'lit Shoppe. The time was around 9:30 pm, yet the sun still clung to life in the dying summer's evening. Thin tendrils of light danced through the wide glass windows of the diner, bending and twisting in the thick haze of the diner. For it being a nice summer night, the diner felt lazy and dreamy, a distant echo of what the town used to be, and what Jughead hoped it would soon again become.

_A town is nothing if not its residents. They are the soul, the beating heart of Riverdale. Just as Riverdale lay host to seemingly barrage after barrage, twisting and turning under narratives pulled straight from Shakespearian lore, so did the hearts and minds of its' young inhabitants. The young - the once innocent - just couldn't seem to catch a break. But recently, all had been quiet. Was it a calm before the storm for the small town of Riverdale, or was the dust finally starting to settle? The answer may lie with four teenagers caught in the tumultuous crossfires that had afflicted the town._

_First, there was me. Once a loner, I was a pauper turned king. A Southsider once finding homes out of movie theaters and school closets was now residing in a white brick kingdom on Elm Street with his queen. Love had slithered into my nihilistic, weirdo heart and repaired it. Repaired my family. Still a broken family, but it was on the mend. A father, daughter, and son under one roof, with a mother who promised to do better. The father no longer working odd job after odd job, but rather living his own version of the American Dream - providing for his family and the sheriff of a town that once shunned and ostracized him. If an outlaw could become the law, was hope actually beginning to stir for Riverdale?_

Jughead looked up from his open Word document and out the window next to his booth. The sun had all but disappeared behind the towering mountains surrounding the outskirts of town. Night had fallen and he was one of the only customers left at Pop's. This was not uncommon; Jughead had spent many nights alone at Pop's, typing away for his novel, or cramming in an extra article for the Blue & Gold. Lately, though, he always seemed to have company with him – sharing a burger and milkshakes with Betty, laughing at the most recent anecdote from Archie, or enjoying quality time with Betty, Archie, and Veronica.

But tonight he had opted to sit and write alone. He needed his space every now and then to think, to work on something original. Something personal. He felt as though he had become the chronicler for Riverdale's bizarre happenings ever since he began his novel of Jason Blossom's murder. Tonight though, his reflections weren't focused on the macabre. While yes, the occasional mention would appear, tonight his writings were to be something more…wistful.

He looked down at his open computer, the spill from the bright screen illuminating his face. He tugged at his beanie and smiled.

** _Bringg. Ring. The phone on the wall let off a few rings before FP came jogging down the stairs. Jughead and JB were sitting at the kitchen counter pouring themselves too big of bowls of cereal. _ **

"**_Hello?" he answered. Jughead turned to look at his dad. The older man's face had softened, a hint of anger in his eyes, but his mouth opened ever so slightly. "Yeah. Yeah. They're here." He stole a quick glance over his shoulder to the two children. Jellybean was diving her spoon into the colorful sea of Fruit Loops. Jughead continued staring at his dad, concern crossing his face. _**

"**_Are you..are you alright?" He asked, making his voice smaller as he turned back towards the wall. A pause. A small laugh escaped FP's lips, the trickle of a smile forming. Then, as quickly as the smile appeared, it faded. "No. Not yet. I have to be sure. You have to be sure!" Jughead studied the back of his dad's head. "We'll talk about it. But later," the man sighed. "I have to get to work."_**

** _FP hung up the phone and turned towards the kitchen. He feigned a small smile, something else still glittering in his eyes._ **

"**_Who was that?" Jughead asked, keeping his eyes locked on FP's. _**

"**_It…," he paused, looking from Jughead to Jellybean, who was now looking up at him, milk dribbling from her spoon. "It was your mother."_**

"**_Mom!?" JB said excitedly. She had dropped her spoon on the table with a clang. She must have realized how excited she looked, as she cleared her throat and slightly slumped over again, as she had been sitting before. "I mean, how is she?"_**

** _Jughead leaned forward. He wanted to know just as much as JB. He had been the one who originally wanted to drive her out of town when he realized she was in the drug business, but after the night of their "family quest," he didn't want her to leave. He wanted her to stay, to try – to try with them. But she had decided that the family was not safe with her around. She wanted to fix things alone. Jughead had wondered when they would hear from her again. Almost the whole summer had passed and nothing until today._ **

** _FP fiddled with his belt, something he did when he was nervous or short on an answer. "She's good, I think." Jughead locked eyes with his father, and what he originally perceived as annoyance was now replaced by something else. "I think she's doing good. So does she."_ **

"**_Is she coming back?" Jellybean asked._**

"**_I don't know, JB. I don't know yet." He walked over to the living room table and picked up his hat. "Come on you two, I better get you to school."_**

* * *

** _"I think she wants to come back." Jughead was sitting on the couch in the Riverdale High School student lounge, an arm around his girlfriend. Archie and Veronica sat across from them, gingerly holding hands. They seemed to be a little unsure as to where they still stood with each other, but nonetheless, the two enjoyed physical touch a little too much._ **

"**_And, is this good, Jug? I mean, would you want her to?" Betty Cooper asked, looking Jughead in the eyes. Her eyes were always shining, her pupils flitting back and forth, searching his face for the answer before he could say it._**

"**_We haven't heard from her the entire summer. I think for her, that's a good sign. The Jones's love going off the map for a while to think. Sometimes to wallow." He gave Betty a small smirk. She knew. "I tried driving her away but I realized I wanted her to stay. She's my mom. I think she might really be trying this time, after seeing what her actions did to Jellybean and me. She realized how much she hurt the family this time. I think it would be nice to have a second - or rather - third chance this time."_**

** _Betty smiled at him. "If it's what you want, Jug, then I will welcome her back too. But please, make sure she comes back to do good this time. We don't want a repeat of last year."_ **

** _Veronica nodded. "You sure she isn't up to something deviant again? I don't want to owe your mother any more debt."_ **

** _Jughead shook his head. "No. This is good. No more Breaking Bad this time."_ **

** _Archie's phone rang. His brow furrowed. "Crap. I got to take this." Then the red-headed teen walked away from the lounge. "Hello?" His voice rang in the distance. _ **

** _Jughead looked back to Betty and kissed her on the forehead. "Not this time."_ **

"Refill, Jughead?" Jughead snapped back to his booth, realizing he had been staring vacantly at his screen. Pop Tate stood over him carrying a fresh pot of coffee.

"Sure, Pop," He said, lifting his mug. He looked at his phone. _10:02 PM, _it glared back at him. He told Betty he would be home at midnight. _Just a few more paragraphs, _he thought to himself.

_Then there was Archie Andrews. An All American boy next door turned ex-con and fighter, Archie Andrews had finally discovered purpose. Once at the mercy of multiple serial killers and a mafia father that landed him in jail, the boy longed to bring restoration to Riverdale, to give hope to a town that so desperately was looking for it. To bring those that were once at the mercy of the same threats he faced to the same community and grace he had found. While I was hoping for a family member's triumphant return, Archie was hoping for a family member's impossible return. Just as he had begun plans on a new community center – on creating a family for those who needed it - his own family was faced with an unimaginable tragedy._

Jughead took a large sip from his coffee mug, placing it on the table with a heavy thud. The memory for him was bad enough, but trying to imagine it from Archie's point of view was even worse. Just as junior year was coming to a close three months ago - just as the town was beginning to pull away from its' tainting of death - the unspeakable happened. And this time, it wasn't because of a serial killer, creepy cult, or anything else pulled straight from a mystery novel. It was simply life, which made the sting all the more bitter.

** _Archie, Veronica, and Mad Dog were huddled around the coffee table in the office area of the El Royale gym. Papers and blueprints were scattered around them._ **

** _"Now Archie, we just need to go through the upcoming budget. We can't have this place as a community center looking like this. A new coat of paint, some furniture, and a little more light in here will do the trick. Of course, updating the layout and facilities wouldn't hurt either."_ **

"**_Ronnie, this is amazing. Are you sure we can afford this much though? I mean, I know your speakeasy is doing well, but this looks like a lot." He motioned his arms at the mess of papers scattered around them. "This shouldn't just be your money. This is my place. I want to help."_**

"**_And you are, Archie!" Veronica looked at him in shock. "This is your gym, and soon to be your new Riverdale Community Center. It's yours. I'm just helping out. I've got resources, you know."_**

** _Archie smiled. He missed this. He missed being a team with Veronica. She was his boxing manager, but that's all it had felt like for a while. After that night at Thornhill though, after watching Veronica almost succumb to poison, he yearned for the connection they used to have. He hoped they were returning to normal._ **

"**_Red, take the money! You know we don't have any. She's offering to pay for an updated place. This is a win-win," Mad Dog chipped in, shaking Archie's shoulder. "Imagine what this place could look like."_**

** _Archie looked around the office area. The old windows were still cracked and grimy from years of neglect. The couch he sat on had a few holes where the stuffing was leaking through. He turned his gaze out the office door into the main area. The boxing ring was the only clean looking part of the room, and that's only because Archie cleaned it methodically after every fight. Taped up bags hung around the room and dust swirled in the broken rays of sunlight that poured through grimy windows. He imagined families and children running around the area coughing in the dust and slipping on the floor. He couldn't have that._ **

** _"Alright, Ronnie. If you're serious about this, then so am I. We're fixing this place up."_ **

** _Veronica beamed at the redhead. "Excellent!" she exclaimed while clapping her hands together. Mad Dog and Archie fist-bumped. "I'll just need you to sign some-"_ **

** _She was cut off by a loud ringing that pierced the quiet, stiff air in the gym. Archie pulled his phone out of his pocket. "It's my mom. This should only take a minute." He got up from the couch and walked a few steps. "Hey, mom, what's up?"_ **

** _Archie's face turned pale, all expression seeping from his eyes. The teen stood still and silent. Veronica and Mad Dog looked over at him, then exchanged a glance. Veronica gasped as Archie Andrews dropped to his knees, a clanging echo ringing throughout the gym as his phone crashed to the floor._ **

* * *

** _The air was cold for an early June day. No birds could be heard from the trees circling the cemetery. There were rows and rows of figures dressed in black, gathered around a beautiful wooden casket. Two roses and a wreath adorned the lid. Archie and Mary Andrews, their red hair sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the gray and black of the day, stood directly in front of the grave. _ **

** _A car crash, Archie had told his friends. Fred Andrews was on his way back from an out of town work project and had gotten into a car crash. A man that had survived being shot by the Black Hood twice, a reopened nightmare with the Midnight Club, and double-crossing Hiram Lodge had been felled by such a petty circumstance. In a twisted sense, it was almost a poetic passing for someone like Fred Andrews._ **

** _"Amazing Grace" lifted softly over the solemn crowd as Archie stood to give the eulogy. He pulled out a few small index cards, his hands shaking. He looked out at the crowd – to Jughead and Betty, both holding back tears, to Veronica, a black knit head covering blending into her hair, to other familiar faces from school and town, and then to his mom, who nodded gently at him. The teen pushed the cards back into his jacket and slipped his hands into his pockets._ **

** _"Many of you knew my dad…" his shaking voice began. Come on, Andrews, he thought. Be strong. For him. "He was a man that loved Riverdale. Born and raised here, he never wanted to leave. He loved this town. He cared for it, almost as much as he cared for his family." Archie's lip began to quiver. This was too much, too soon. He almost lost his dad a year and a half ago, but now it was real. He couldn't sit by his dad's side and tell him to fight this time. _ **

** _As Archie began to talk about family, Mary hung her head, a tear rolling down her cheek. Even though they were divorced, she had still cared about Fred. He was a good man, it just hadn't worked out. She looked up at her son, whose face had twisted, trying not to break down. She stood up and walked over to him, grabbing his arm. Archie looked at her, squeezed her hand, then continued._ **

** _"A family man. He worked so hard to support me growing up, just like he had when he was my age and had to care for my grandfather. He had so much love and care in his heart, it couldn't help but spill out to the rest of us." He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Archie's mind was racing with memories. "I remember once when I was little, Dad had taken me fishing at Sweetwater River. I was no good; I kept getting the hook stuck on a tree behind us and when I thought I had a fish, I only pulled up weeds from the river." The boy gave a soft smile, as did most of the crowd._ **

** _"I remember towards the end of the day, I accidentally caught my dad's pants." Archie was full-on smiling now, biting his lower lip and staring at the ground. A few people, including Jughead, laughed. "He wasn't mad. He was so patient. I started getting frustrated, and I threw my rod down and starting crying. Dad came over and sat down next to me. He said, 'Son, I know this looks hard, but you just have to keep trying. When my father took me out fishing for the first time, I was even worse than you!' I remember not believing him - my father was great at everything. 'That's right,' he said. 'I accidentally threw my whole pole in the river instead of just the line.' Dad smiled at me and said, 'The trick is to just keep trying. Keep your head up and try. It just takes a little practice.'"_ **

** _Archie wasn't trying to hold back tears now, they were flowing down his red cheeks, stinging in the cold breeze. "And that's exactly what my dad did. He never stopped trying. With me. With his business. With Riverdale. He tried so hard. Even when all the crazy was happening over the past two years, he tried his hardest to be a beacon, to be a safe place for me and the town. Because that's who Fred Andrews is. He is hope."_ **

** _Mary hugged her son. Betty and Veronica were both beaming up at him, eyes glistening with coming tears. Archie could see Jughead squeeze Betty's hand. He looked around the crowd; the whole town seemed to be here for his dad. _ **

** _"And that's what I knew my dad to be for so many of you, and I want to continue on that hope in Riverdale. No matter what may come - what may still happen - there is hope in Riverdale. Just because my dad is gone, hope is not. That's his legacy. Hope for Riverdale."_ **

_Hope for Riverdale. _Those words bounced around in Jughead's mind. It's what he had named this current piece. Ever since the funeral, Archie had thrown himself into setting up the community center. He had spent the entire summer with Mad Dog and Veronica fixing up the place.

_Although Archie had lost his father, he had not lost hope. _Jughead continued to type. _This was his requiem. For a dream that had been instilled in his father, now instilled in him, inspired further by his father's legacy. If hope was stirring in Riverdale, then Archie Andrews, the boy who just wanted to do good, was the one holding the spoon. _

_And right by his side was Veronica Lodge. She had come to Riverdale a privileged and spoiled daughter of a mafia boss. No longer did she want to hide in her family's shadow. Two parents in jail, and yet the shadow still lingered. Now, Veronica aimed to reclaim her name and usher in a new era for the Lodges. A successful businesswoman with continuing ventures, Veronica was still coasting from the magnificent high of putting away her criminal father. Yet the passionate raven-haired teen still had her soft spots. One was a red-haired boy, the other was family. No matter how hard Veronica tried to get away, she still felt the same tantalizing pull. After everything her parents put her through, she still wanted to see them. Her mother may have been guilty, but Veronica still wanted at least one parent. _

** _Clang. The metal door slammed shut as Veronica sat down on the small hard stool in front of a wall of glass. Across from her sat Hermione in a dull gray jumpsuit. It was strange seeing her mother without makeup, Veronica thought. She looks so much older, so much...sadder. Veronica picked up the phone on the wall and held it cautiously to her mouth._ **

** _"Mom," she started._ **

** _"Veronica," breathed Hermione, a look of thankfulness on her face. _ **

** _"Mom, I know your hands aren't the cleanest, but you shouldn't be here. I believe Daddy orchestrated your arrest."_ **

** _Hermione sighed. "Of course he did, Veronica. I- I was blind. After everything your father has done, I still didn't think he would take it this far." _ **

** _Veronica closed her eyes slowly. "He may already be in jail, but he still has a lot to pay for. Whoever thought it was a good idea to lock Daddy up in his own prison should be evaluated. He's still pulling strings, just like before." Her eyes narrowed, locking with her mother's sympathetic eyes. "Which is why I'm going to play him at his own game. Again."_ **

** _"Veronica," Hermione began, "be careful, honey. You know how he thinks. And now-," she swallowed, "I don't think he's playing by the same rules. We aren't family to him anymore." Tears welled at the corner of her eyes._ **

** _Veronica had only seen her mother like this a few times, but each time she had been able to comfort her - To hug her and let her know she was there. This time though, there was a wall between them. Veronica reached her hand up and pressed it against the cold glass. Her mother did the same. "I'll get you out, Mom. Daddy is going down. Once and for all."_ **

* * *

** _"Careful, Archie!" Veronica shouted as Archie swung a punching bag over his head, narrowly missing her. The two had begun cleaning out the gym to make way for the new features. The floors had been properly scrubbed and swept, the windows had been replaced, and fresh light now flooded the main arena of the gym._ **

** _"Sorry Ronnie," Archie mumbled. "I can't see over this thing." He adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder and walked towards the storage closet. The gym was already looking better than it ever had before, and this was only a simple cleanup. _ **

** _"Alright, so the electrician should be here in about 20 minutes, then we need to find the water meter before the water company gets here at 2 pm." Veronica flipped through her gold-framed ledger, double-checking the itinerary for the day. "What time did you say Mad Dog and the other boys would be here?"_ **

** _"Not until 5," Archie said as he walked back into the room. "Why?"_ **

** _"Good. That means after we're finished up with the utilities, we've got some time. Maybe a quick stop to Pop's?" Veronica smiled. Archie smiled back. The two had been spending more time together since the construction on the gym began. More than they had in a long time. _ **

** _"Yeah. That sounds great, Ronnie. I'm starving." He plopped down on the still busted couch that sat in the gym office. Veronica joined him, gracefully crossing her legs while placing her ledger on the coffee table. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Archie rested his head back on the couch. _ **

** _"So," Veronica piped up. She looked over at Archie and placed a hand on his thigh. "How are you, Archie? I've been watching you. You've thrown yourself into this gym as much as I have." She looked up at him, concerned. She knew that whenever Archie really threw himself into something, it was out of stress, or avoidance, rather than pure determination._ **

** _Archie slowly lolled his head towards her. He was silent, just simply staring into her eyes. After what felt like an eternity, he straightened up and let out a long sigh, pressing his fist into his chin. "Not good, Ronnie. I don't know how to do anything without him." Veronica began rubbing his back in circles, drawing her head closer to his shoulder. "He's just gone. And I couldn't protect him."_ **

** _"Arch, there was nothing for you to do. It was a car accident. For once in this town, there was nothing diabolical about this." _ **

** _"That's the thing. What if there was? I've been replaying scenarios over and over in my head. What if it was foul play?"_ **

** _Veronica leaned into his shoulder, feeling his muscles flex and relax every other breath. She had thought the same thing in the beginning. Her father had caused a "car accident" before. But he didn't have any grudges against Fred anymore. Besides, they had seen the police report and there was no sign of foul play. Not this time. _ **

"**_Archiekins," she began. Archie gave a quick shudder. She hadn't called him that in ages. Had she overstepped? But he turned towards her. "While we are in a town full of more conspiracies than a History channel documentary, this isn't one of them." She sighed and straightened up this time. "It was just life this time." She gazed into his dark eyes. He wanted to believe her, she could see it. "Archie, it was a tragedy. It was too soon. But, it was a drunk driver. Nothing more."_**

** _Tears began to roll down the boy's face. He closed his eyes and his face scrunched up. "I know." He swallowed, "But..." he trailed off, "after everything we've gone through, this is harder to face. No mystery, no serial killers - just a man in court who was sincerely sorry. Somehow, this is harder."_ **

** _Veronica grabbed Archie's hands in hers as she twirled, kneeling on the ground in front of him. "Oh, Archie. My sweet, brave Archiekins." She placed her forehead on his chest. "Everything is going to be okay. You're going to get through this." And with that, she reached up and kissed him._ **

_But maybe the pull that tugged at Veronica's heart was for a different family. The Lodge daughter may have built herself a nest egg, but she was now searching for an actual nest. A safe place to land after her father had cut down her tree. Veronica had become anything but the spoiled kid that first rode into Riverdale in the back of a chauffeured car. No, Veronica Lodge had experienced true pain and loss, but she had now known true love. And twig by twig, stick by stick, the raven was rebuilding her home, claiming a new family, one that she had built. _

Jughead let out a long sigh. _10:58 PM. _He yawned and rubbed his eyes; he had been staring at his keyboard all day. He looked around and noticed that he was the only one left despite it being fairly early for a 24-hour diner.

"Don't you have school tomorrow, Jughead?" Pop asked from across the diner. He was scrubbing down the counter, the small trail of a spilled milkshake still visible. "You should be getting home."

"Yes, but when has that ever stopped me from being up late before, Pop?" He gave the shopkeeper a quick smirk. Pop let a small smile cross his face, then shook his head and went back to cleaning. _He did have a point. I told Betty I'd be home by midnight. _Jughead yawned a second time and looked back towards his computer. The cursor sat blinking back at him, begging him to continue. "Just a bit more..." he muttered to himself.

_Of course, there's one more resident of Riverdale that belongs to this story, the one who seems to have been the key to everything, the key that has unlocked all of Riverdale's murderous mysteries. The girl next door. The aspiring investigative journalist and star detective of the town. My partner in crime and crown, Betty Cooper. If anyone has changed, it's her. Yet, maybe changed isn't the right word. She's seen and felt the most out of all of us. Somehow she, or part of her family, has been a part of every oddity in the town. She carries it all. Some call her troubled for it, but, I know that's not true. She's haunted. My beautiful haunted Betty, who currently faced someone who was believed to have only been a ghost._

** _"How-how are you alive?" Betty fumbled over the question. It had been two weeks since the FBI set up shop in Riverdale, yet she had only now gotten the courage – and the time – to sit down with her long-thought-dead brother. Charles smiled across from her. Betty had asked if they could meet at Pop's to talk and get to know each other. "Chic said he saw you die."_ **

** _Charles gave her a sad look. "I honestly thought I was dead too. Whatever he told you about my drug use...that-that was true. I'm not proud of it, Betty. I'm not exactly sure what happened. I thought I had OD'ed, but by some miracle, I woke up in the hospital with a second chance at life. I was going to stop feeling sorry for myself and do some good, so I joined the FBI."_ **

** _Betty analyzed her brother as he smiled and nodded while continuing his story about FBI training and his involvement with The Farm case. He seemed so genuine, too real to actually be sitting across from her. At one time, Chic had seemed just as genuine. Not as open or friendly, but…real. She had just wanted to see her mom smile again, but she had ended up bringing home their biggest problem. But this time, there was a large chance this Charles was her real brother._ **

** _"When my team began the investigation with TheFarm, I wasn't expecting to find my family in the middle of it. Our mom had reached out only a few days earlier - after Polly first asked her about joining. She was so curious, continuously saying she had a feeling I was still alive."_ **

** _"After everything Chic told us, and then learning about who he really was, she must have doubted him. She told me the Farm let her speak to you…she meant she really WAS speaking to you. But…but she couldn't tell me because she was undercover." Betty shook her head. This was too much to take in, even after everything else that had happened. She hadn't expected her dead brother to walk into her life. She sighed and crossed her arms on the table. "I didn't believe her. I thought she was just brainwashed and going crazy."_ **

** _"I'm sorry, Betty. I know that was probably hard. For both you and her. She begged us to let you in on the investigation for so long, but we have a strict policy. There were a few times I thought she may have actually lost it, though. Sorry about all your money." He gave Betty an apologetic smile. _ **

** _"It's okay, Charles. I still…I just…I just can't believe you are actually alive. Ever since we thought Chic was you, I've been longing for a real brother."_ **

** _"Makes it a little weird that I'm also Jughead's brother, doesn't it?" Charles was leaning over his plate, a playful look on his face. _ **

** _Betty gave a small laugh. "Yeah, but after the year I've had, it doesn't bother me much." She squirmed a bit before asking her next question. "Uh, about that. I know you're an FBI agent, but after the last scare we had, is it okay if you get a DNA test? You know, so I know for a FACT that you are who you say who are, and not...not a ghost?"_ **

** _Charles nodded. "Of course, Betty. What kind of a detective would I be if I didn't crosscheck my facts?"_ **

** _Betty smiled at the mention of 'detective.' "How long have you wanted to be in the FBI?" she asked. "Have you always been drawn to mysteries?"_ **

** _"Since the Hardy Boys." Charles laughed. "Encyclopedia Brown. Those were some of my favorite books growing up. I wouldn't let myself finish the book unless I had a mapped out answer to the mystery."_ **

** _Betty grinned. "It was Nancy Drew for me…"_ **

** _The two siblings continued to laugh and talk about their childhoods while eating burgers and sipping on vanilla milkshakes in their booth at Pop's, the family walls between them breaking down._ **

_Meanwhile, Betty was also finally leaning into what probably the entire town of Riverdale needed – therapy. Hope was stirring, and Betty was determined to add healing to the mix. After lying about sessions before, Betty Cooper thought that maybe it was time to take a new approach and embrace this different type of change. From the inside out instead of from the outside in. Riverdale's very own Nancy Drew was going to solve her own mysteries, walk into the dark of her own choice instead of getting shoved into the shadows, determined to walk out and back into the light she knew was still there. _

** _"I've always just wanted to be good. Do the right things." Betty said as she sat in a cushy black chair. The office she sat in was full of calming nature photographs and random knick-knacks. "But so many people around me encourage darkness, keep telling me to give in. To be…evil." She didn't even want to speak the word. She still shuddered at the memory of Polly standing in the shadows, pretending to be the "true" Betty Cooper. Of Edgar Evernever telling her she had a malady and hypnotizing her into watching images of herself that didn't exist. "I don't know why. Why does everyone want to push that? Am I nothing more than a scapegoat for their darkness?"_ **

** _Dr. Glass looked away from the notes he had been writing. Betty had been searching for a trustworthy therapist and had come across his practice. The irony of previously pretending to have a therapist named Dr. Glass was too much and Betty signed up with him immediately. "Betty, everyone has light and dark in them. But encouraging the dark, the temptations you feel, it is not right or healthy."_ **

** _"I know." Of course, I know that, she thought. Sometimes the therapist was just so obvious, but he was also helpful. She finally had someone to talk to that was separated from all the turmoil of her life._ **

** _"Have you still been having trouble sleeping? Having dreams?" Betty looked straight through him. She was. And right now it was the same one over and over._ **

** _"Yes," she said quietly, "The same nightmare for the past two weeks to be honest. My dad's cold green eyes piercing through me, screaming at me to shoot him, but I'm just frozen." She closed her eyes and shuddered. There were so many images in her head that could never be unseen. And it all started with that video of Clifford shooting Jason. That was the memory that started it all - that beget all the others. And she had stood in a position not too dissimilar to that one. Father pointing a gun at his child's head. "I didn't want to shoot him. Not even in the hand. He's awful, disgusting, but, he was still my father." She sucked in a breath._ **

** _"And you had to watch him die."_ **

** _"I still cared about him." A tear rolled down her cheek as her voice grew, "I will never, NEVER, be like him. I'm choosing to fight the darkness, not give in to it." _ **

** _Dr. Glass gave her a sympathetic look. "You are brave, Betty. Most of my patients haven't been in situations even remotely close to yours'. But here you are, choosing to fight." Betty shifted around in her seat. Brave. Everyone called her that. She still felt at times that she didn't deserve that title. She felt like so much of what happened in the town was her fault. It was somehow all connected to her. Hot tears began streaming down her face._ **

** _"It's all my fault," she sobbed. "It's all my fault. I caused the Black Hood. I caused the pain that led my mom to The Farm." She struggled to suck in a breath between the sobs, " I'm not good."_ **

_But she is. Betty Cooper is good. And she is one of the strongest fighters I know. We all were. We all just wanted to be teenagers, but we were forced to be detectives, fighters, and prisoners - pawns in a game larger than us all, sometimes even larger than Riverdale. But Betty knew that she finally had to let it all out. In order to move on from the personal hell that the town had put her in, she had to let it out and let it go. Just as Betty had led the town to the truth of each mystery, she was leading them in the charge for healing. And even though she still had to fight through many tears, Betty smiled. She smiled at the prospect of what was next, of what could be found in the coming chapters in Riverdale's chronicle._

_Hope was stirring. Healing was coming. The ouroboros that had wrapped itself around the town was retreating, being forced back into the outlying shadows by determined citizens. No longer a sleepy town, Riverdale had truly woken up. It was reclaiming its future, and the future was ours to write._

Jughead stretched his arms over his head and shut his laptop. _11:45 PM. Not too bad, _he thought. _I'll only be a little late. _Betty would probably still be up, making sure he got home safely. He shoved his laptop into his bag and grabbed the helmet sitting next to him. "See ya, Pop!"

"Goodnight, Jughead." The old man called after the teen. A small _ding _rang out in the quiet night as Jughead swung open the front door to the Chock'lit Shoppe. Swinging one leg over his bike, he revved the engine, a beast roaring to life in the still night air. Jughead looked around him and breathed in the cool midnight breeze. A few lightning bugs still blinked in and out of his sight, small flares shimmering in the dark. He flicked on the bike's headlight and drove off into the night.

_And the future was ours to write. _Those were the last words he had written. If only he had known what lie ahead for the friends and for the town of Riverdale, the town he thought had awoken, but may instead just be stuck inside a layered, perpetual dream, a nightmare it couldn't shake. Maybe the cycle hadn't broken yet. If hope was stirring in Riverdale, it would have to wait just a little longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thanks for reading so far. This work was originally published (and still currently a WIP) on FanFiction.net back in June, but I just now joined AO3, so now I'll be working on it here, too.
> 
> I've been wanting to practice my writing with an audience for a while now, and this story has been floating around in my head since Season 3 ended. Comment and/or kudos if you'd like! I love feedback and only want to get better as a writer.
> 
> All events from the show are canon, are a part of this story. It takes place sometime after the finale of Season 3. My take on a possible storyline for Season 4. I am writing this story as if you would be watching an episode of Riverdale. I will be cutting between different character POV's and scenes, some rapid intercutting in the next few chapters. (Since I already have 10 chapters finished for this story, I'll be posting those pretty frequently in the next few weeks.) I will also be using Jughead's writing as narration a lot. I've written for film before, but I wanted to make this novelistic writing that feels like you could be watching an episode of TV.
> 
> So if you are enjoying it, please comment! I love engagement and conversation with my work, and will try to respond to comments as well!


	2. Do Not Go Gentle Into That Goodnight

"I never imagined myself as a college kind of guy," Jughead mused. He was sitting lazily on a chair in the Blue & Gold office, eating a bag of chips. "Besides, I already have a scathing wit with a pen to match. Why would I need a college to tell me that I'm not writing the way they want me to?"

"Jug," Betty gave her boyfriend a side smirk, "College is to help you become a better writer. _High school's_ about conformity, not college." She stole a glance at her open laptop - a page to one of her own college applications displaying a nearly completed loading bar – before turning back to Jughead. "There! Uploaded." She gently closed her computer. "Don't you want to be the first Jones to go to school?"

Jughead shoved another handful of chips into his mouth. "I mean, I guess. I'm pretty sure my dad wants that more than I do. No matter where I go, it would probably still be too expensive. We, - I don't want to use any of my mom's blood money on it."

Betty sighed. "I would still think about it. You have so much potential, Juggie. College would just help nurture that, open you up to new opportunities…new things to write about. While Riverdale has become eventful the past few years, it will eventually run out of stories." She looked up at him with soft eyes. "Please? Just think about it?"

"Fine," he said. "But don't expect me to be thrilled about it."

Betty clasped her hands together and smiled. "Great! Now, let's get going. We don't want to be late for the meeting." Jughead adjusted his gray knit cap and folded his arms. Betty narrowed her eyes. "Still?" She asked in a quiet voice. "The DNA test proved true this time. He's 100% our brother. And he's good, he's sweet." She reached a hand out and rubbed Jughead's arm. "You really need to get to know him. He's a lot like us! Which is sort of scary, but nice."

"Forgive me for still being a bit hesitant. Our last Boo Radley turned out to actually _be _a murderer."

"I know, but Charles is different. He really is trying to help. It's just a quick meeting with him and your dad, and then we can focus on Archie's community center, okay?"

Jughead nodded as Betty got up and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Well, almost. I did squeeze another session in with Dr. Glass before the opening ceremony."

It was Jughead's turn to narrow his eyes. "Are you okay? This is the second extra session you've had this month."

"Yeah, yeah, Jug. I'm fine. It's just - counseling is a lot more helpful than I thought it would be."

Jughead sighed. He was prone to suppress his emotions, all the Jones men were, but after seeing the way the shine had begun to return to Betty's eyes, he had to admit that maybe it wasn't so bad after all. "Okay, Betts. Just don't sign us up for couple's counseling just yet, okay?"

"Deal."

* * *

"What the hell?" Graffiti littered the side of the former El Royale Gym and broken glass glittered on the ground in the afternoon sun. Archie rushed from his truck to the destroyed window, his shoes crunching powdered glass, and carefully looked over the jagged edges. A brick lay in the shadows on the floor of the gym, the words "**HOPE IS DEAD" **written sloppily across it.

Anger surged through Archie, his face quickly matching his hair. _How could they? _He thought, _How could they write something like that? _He pulled out his phone and held it to his ear. "Ronnie? Hey, something happened at the center. Some thug threw a brick through the window." A pause. "I know. Is there time to get this fixed up? I mean, we're opening tonight!"

* * *

"What?" exclaimed Veronica from the other side of the phone. She was sitting at the kitchen table in her apartment. "Scoundrels. The lot of them."

"_Is there time to get this fixed up?" _came Archie's voice.

"Let me make a few calls. Nothing, I mean _nothing, _will keep us from opening tonight."

"_Ronnie...?" _Archie's voice trailed off for a second. "_Is it possible that…?"_ He let his words trail off.

"No. He wouldn't! He may be a modern Machiavelli, but he wouldn't attack a children's center!"

"_Not even because it's me?"_

Veronica paused. She honestly couldn't be sure. Her father stooped to some very low levels. "No. These were probably just some ruffians."

"_The brick said HOPE IS DEAD, Ron."_

Veronica's heart dropped. She sucked in a shaky breath, quickly smiling to herself. "Archiekins, it's alright. Let me make the calls and I'll be right over."

She hung up. _He wouldn't, would he? He's not that heartless. _Veronica swiped to her contacts and walked briskly out the door of the Pembrooke.

* * *

Officers milled around the lobby of the Riverdale Police Station, carrying paperwork and answering calls as Betty and Jughead entered. FP and Charles were standing in the lobby waiting for them, the men standing a few feet apart. They turned towards the teens as they walked through the doors.

FP coughed as he adjusted his belt and motioned towards his office. "Finally. Let's get this started."

"We have men in a number of surrounding towns - Greendale, Centerville, Athens - and still nothing. They haven't noticed any activity that corresponds to The Farm or to the Evernevers," Charles explained, placing tacks onto the map hanging on the office wall. We can rule out the possibility of them heading closer to New York, they wouldn't risk being so close to such a large city. They prefer small…quiet towns."

FP was lounging in his chair, gazing up at the board. Betty and Jughead were leaning against the desk, both of them with arms crossed. The four had been meeting off and on regarding The Farm for a few months now. Charles had initially approached Betty and Jughead about helping with the investigation, and then FP and the Riverdale police had been brought in to share resources and updates. He continued, "Our field operatives are moving into other towns now. We believe they may have headed north, possibly even to Canada. But so far, we still think they are in the state."

Betty groaned. "My mom is still out there with that creep." She tightened her ponytail. "I was able to get in and out of their facility with no problem. How could they just disappear without a trace?"

"From what we've gathered, Edgar is very good at covering his tracks once he's moved on from a place. No loose ends, just always one scared person, deceived into believing The Farm had ascended and moved on without them so they wouldn't follow."

Betty and Jughead exchanged a sad glance. Kevin had been the deceived.

"**_Kevin?" Betty's question rung through the quiet hall. Kevin was sitting alone hugging his knees, surrounded by empty white outfits laid out in a 'U'. Orange hazy light hung thick against the shadowy walls. "Where's my mom?"_**

"**_Gone," he said, his voice broken and eyes swollen. "They're all gone. They left me. They said someone had to stay behind, to tell them what had happened." Betty stared at him in disbelief, tears welling at the corner of her eyes. "They're gone and we'll never see them again."_**

Jughead pressed his tongue to his cheek. Even Fangs, one of his Serpents had given into The Farm and now he too was missing. He couldn't imagine how Betty must have been feeling though - believing her mother to have been brainwashed by The Farm, learning that she was actually an FBI informant only to have her go missing with the rest of the cult.

"FP, are you sure no one else can give a testimony about The Farm? There still might be something we are missing."

FP sighed, looking at the floor. "Unfortunately, not right now. Cheryl and Betty were the only two willing to go on record." Jughead glanced at Betty. Her eyes were swimming, but he couldn't tell if she was sad or angry.

Charles nodded slowly. "Okay. Well, if Kevin decides he would like to speak out about his experience, please let us know." FP nodded. "Now, in the meantime - Jughead, Betty - I got you two clearance to investigate at the Sisters of Quiet Mercy with me. You two are known for spotting details others have missed." He handed them two badges.

Betty's eyes brightened as she grabbed the badges. "Of course, Charles. We are all for that, right Jughead?" Jughead looked at her, then to his half-brother.

"Yeah, I'm in."

Betty squeezed his arm. Charles gave them a smile and walked out of the room.

"You two be safe with him," FP retorted, casting an upturned eyebrow at Jughead.

Betty slipped her badge into her jacket pocket and handed the other to Jughead. She looked between the two Jones's. "And you two really need to stop acting so coldly towards Charles. I know it's weird, for all of us, but please try. He's family."

Father and son both turned their stares toward the ground, finding sudden interest in their shoes.

Betty tilted her head, her mouth a straight line. "I've got to go, see you at the opening ceremony." With that, she marched out the door.

* * *

"Thank you so much for coming on such short notice," Veronica said to the maintenance man installing the new window. "I know it's technically after hours for you."

"No problem. Ya' know, I was so excited to learn that a new community center was openin' up. And on the Southside, too! This is what we need right now." _Bhrrr, bhrr! _His drill surged to life as he anchored in a screw.

"Yeah Mad Dog, everything's going to be fine. Yeah. See you in 10." Archie hung up the phone as Veronica approached him. "Mad Dog will be here in 10 minutes to help set everything up."

"Excellent. See, Archie? Everything is going to be just fine."

"Yeah..." He lifted his eyes to a flowing red sheet hanging over the newly installed front sign. The two stood silently, then Archie piped up. "So, are you going to talk to him?"

Veronica slipped her arms in between Archie's. "No. If this was him, which I don't think it is, that's what he would want me to do. Ruffle feathers and watch me blow in like a storm just to see him. No, I'm waiting him out for as long as possible."

_Bhrrrr! Clank. _"I'm finished, Ms. Lodge!"

"Thank you, Mr. Daniels! Will you be here tonight?"

"Wouldn't miss it!" He picked up his drill, tipped his hat, and turned to leave. Archie looked down at Veronica.

"Thank you. For everything you've done to help me and Mad Dog out."

"Of course, Archiekins! It's what I'm here for. Tonight is going to be perfect. We'll make it perfect. For him. No one can ruin that, no matter how hard they try."

"For him," Archie repeated, glancing over at the building, its' fresh coat of paint glowing in the evening light.

* * *

Dr. Glass looked up from his desk as Betty opened the door. "Ah, Betty! So good to see you. How is everything?"

"Good, Dr. Glass."

"Sit down, sit down," he motioned her towards a chair, "What's on your mind today?"

Betty sat and curled her fingers, tracing the thin white lines on the inside of her palms. "Jughead and his dad still won't welcome Charles."

"Ah, I see." He opened a drawer and pulled out a small notebook. "It is hard. You adapted so quickly, but you were looking for a brother, after feeling abandoned by your other family. But, from what you told me, even though Jughead may want a family, a brother might not be what his mind is set on."

"I know. He's not good at trust - trusting quickly – that is. But it's been almost three months! He should at least try to be warm towards our brother."

"Has that knowledge done anything to your relationship? Knowing that he is an 'our' brother?"

Betty furrowed her brow. "I…I'm not...I don't know. He's said that it doesn't weird him out, and it doesn't weird me out either. I think it's something else. He's very protective, and I think he still sees Chic when he looks at Charles."

Dr. Glass nodded, writing a quick note down. "How does that make you feel?"

She shifted uncomfortably and let her eyes wander around the room. "We've grown. I've grown. But sometimes I think that Jughead still sees me as I was at the beginning of our sophomore year; painfully shy and under the thumb of my controlling mother. I was scared of everything. Sometimes I feel as though he still thinks of me that way."

"And what way is that?" Dr. Glass looked up from his notebook inquisitively.

"As someone who constantly needs protection."

"Do you?"

Betty looked at her therapist. "Well, yeah. We all do. But… I can handle myself. He tries so hard to be strong and unbothered at times, but I think Jughead is the one that needs to be protected sometimes. From himself."

Dr. Glass raised an eyebrow. "So, what I'm hearing is, you feel as though he protects you too much, that he still sees an earlier image of yourself at times, just as he still sees an earlier image of Chic in your brother. And it sounds like he's afraid of losing you. That image of you."

"But I was weak then, and so afraid. I was alone."

"Maybe to you, but to him, you were already strong and brave, just as strong and as brave as you see yourself now, Betty. Maybe he just needs to be reminded that you aren't looking for protection from him, but – validation - perhaps? Of how far you've come."

Betty nodded. An alarm rang on her phone. "Oh, uh, I've got to go. Thank you, Dr. Glass."

"Of course. Same time next week?"

Betty nodded, heading for the door.

"Betty?"

She turned back around. Dr. Glass was staring warmly at her. "You _are_ strong and brave. And you are a good person. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

Betty gave a small smile, then turned and headed out of his office.

* * *

Jughead raced down the stairs, his helmet in his hands.

"Hey, Jug!" He turned around to a thoughtful expression etched across his dad's face. "I've been thinking," FP began, "about what Betty said earlier."

Jughead leaned against the doorpost. "Dad, I know that Charles came to us - to me - first, but I just can't look at him and not think about the last time Betty's brother came home."

"I know," FP said, nodding his head as he poured a cup of coffee. "But everything checks out with this guy. And he's a good cop."

Jughead cocked his head. "You trust him?"

"I do."

"Then why are you so cold to him? I've seen the way you look at him."

FP sat down on a stool, placing his mug on the kitchen counter in front of him. "Jug… your mom wants to try again. But she has no idea. I can't tell her about Charles."

Jughead's face fell. He hadn't even thought of that. He'd been so swept up in the thought of the possibility of a normal family, he hadn't even considered that thread. "Oh..."

"She's been legitimately shaping up, Jug, and I'll be damned if I'm the one to screw this up." He looked into his cup of coffee. "You better get going boy, better not be late."

* * *

Archie and Veronica stood on a large platform. A podium was mounted towards the front of the stage and instruments were lined up next to it. A huge crowd had amassed for the event and vacant chatter buzzed in the air. Mad Dog walked up to the stage. "Nice suit, dude. I feel like all I've ever seen you in is athletic gear," Archie beamed.

"Thanks, Red. Veronica hooked me up with a sweet tailor. Your girl is amazing."

Veronica smiled and adjusted Archie's bowtie. _My girl, _Archie thought. _We kissed, but are we together? _He smiled at Veronica, then turned his gaze over at the crowd. He could see Betty standing towards the front and Jughead weaving his way through the crowd towards her.

"Guess it's showtime," Veronica beamed and walked up to the podium. She tapped the mic once, a small amount of feedback emanating from the touch. "Welcome, fair folk of Riverdale! My name is Veronica Lodge and I am so pleased to be a part of this new chapter for the town. As you know, Riverdale has needed some real change - a new tomorrow - for a while now, and these two young men behind me are helping usher in that new tomorrow." She waited as the crowd applauded. She looked down at Betty and Jughead; both were smiling back up at her. "And now, without further ado, I give you the man of the hour, Archie Andrews!"

The crowd cheered as Archie stepped forward. "Thank you." A short shrill of feedback ushered from the microphone and Archie took a step back. He took the moment to cough, than leaned back into the mic. "Thank you so much, everyone, for coming out tonight. This means so much to me, as well as to my friend and co-owner, Mad Dog. We've put a lot of work into this place over the past few months. About a year ago, I was wrongfully imprisoned, as were many of my friends from the Leopold & Lobe detention center."

Archie met Betty's eyes and she gave him a reassuring grin. He looked out over the rest of the crowd; FP's cruiser was parked in the back, Mrs. McCoy and Mr. Keller standing near it. Mr. Keller gave Archie a nod. "That was a place full of pain and despair. The guards and staff there didn't want us to heal, didn't want us to bond, and after seeing how hopeless some kids were, Mad Dog and I decided that something needed to change when we got out. Kids and families alike sometimes just need a place to go to get off the streets and away from dangerous situations. That's our hope for this community center – for it to be a safe space for anyone who is hurting and in need. Somewhere where people can learn how to be a community and a family again."

Archie paused and looked down as his lip began to tremble. He looked back at Veronica, who put a hand over her heart. Archie turned back to the mic and adjusted it slightly. "And no one knew more about taking care of a community and family than my dad, Fred Andrews. Veronica said that we were ushering in a new tomorrow. Well, last year, when my dad was running for mayor, he showed me a plan he made for Riverdale when he was my age. 'Riverdale 2020' he called it. He was so happy looking at that bright future he had always imagined for his hometown, but he never got to see it happen. This-," he indicated towards the building behind him, "is dedicated to him. So, in honor of my dad," he walked over to the hanging red sheet and pulled, revealing a shiny new sign. He stepped back as applause and cheers emitted from the crowd. "I present to you the new Andrews Community Center of Riverdale!"

Betty and Jug cheered as Veronica ran up to give Archie a hug. His cheeks were warm. "Now, before we open for tours, to celebrate this occasion, I'd like to invite up the Pussycats!" The crowd grew even more boisterous as Val and Melody climbed the stage. Veronica shuffled over to the standing mic as music filled the night.

As a more upbeat version of "Time After Time" floated over the crowd, Archie hopped down from the stage. A few students patted him on the back as Jughead and Betty approached.

"Arch, this is great! That was such a good speech!" Betty wrapped her friend in a hug.

Jughead grabbed his shoulder. "Yeah man, you sure you don't want to be a writer too?"

Archie smirked at Jughead's comment. "Nah, I think I'll leave that to you two."

xxx

Betty pulled away and looked to her left. Kevin was standing by himself. "Archie, Jug, I'll be right back." She shoved her way through the crowd to Kevin. "Hi, Kevin."

He looked up for a split second, then turned away. "Betty."

"Kev, come on. Talk to me. It's been so long since we talked. I know you're hurting."

He jutted out his chin. "No thanks to you, Betty. The Farm left. Fangs left. Everyone left me."

"But I came back, Kevin. I still care about you. I'm sorry I hurt you." Normally Betty would be firing right back at him, but she'd been able to catch herself lately. "I know it hurts. Maybe you could try talking to someone about what happened?"

"Like a therapist, Betty? Like yours?"

"Or your dad! Kev-,"

"No, Betty! The Farm was helping me!"

Betty took a deep breath. "No, Kevin! Edgar wasn't helping you! He was _stealing organs_! Just tricking you into thinking he was taking your pain away. You're in pain now! Can't you see that? He didn't take it!"

Kevin gave Betty a side glance, then began looking around. "I have to go, Betty, my dad is waiting for me." He pushed past her and vanished into the large crowd.

"Well hello, cousin! Splendid evening, isn't it?" Cheryl materialized next to Betty, making her jump slightly.

"Hi, Cheryl," Betty said, still staring after Kevin.

"Shame we couldn't get Kevin out of that hell hole in time," Cheryl cooed, following Betty's gaze. "I realize I was blinded by Edgar's devilish promises for a while, but poor Kevin was simply infatuated with the thought of leaving all his pain behind."

Betty turned to Cheryl. "I wanted to thank you again for testifying with the FBI, it's been very helpful for them."

"Of course, cousin."

Betty opened her mouth, a small thought coming to her. "How have you been doing, Cheryl? After learning about what Edgar did to Jason, and then everything with your mother..."

Cheryl rolled her eyes. "Please, don't speak of that hag. How dare she try to hunt you and the others like animals. She's the animal. As for JJ, he's back home again." Her eyes flashed.

"Have you been getting any help, Cheryl? I mean, it's a lot to take in, and now we've both lost our parents."

Cheryl straightened up. "TT and I have talked through it. She's _such_ a good listener."

Betty nodded. "Yeah. Well, I've been going to counseling and thought that you might benefit from it. I find it enlightening."

Cheryl's eyes raced and her red lips twisted. "The Blossoms are a strongly rooted family, Betty. You have our blood, I don't need to tell you that. I don't need another quack telling me what to feel." Her tongue snapped, a viper against her pale cheeks.

"Cheryl-," Betty knew Edgar had gotten into Cheryl, but this was a much more vehement response than she had anticipated.

"Toodles, Betty." Cheryl smiled, whipping her hair as she whisked back off into the crowd. Jughead took her place.

"Betts, you okay?"

She sighed, "Yeah, I was just trying to help Cheryl. And Kevin. They still won't listen. I think Edgar's twisted version of help is scaring them from trying to find real help."

"They'll come through." Jughead rubbed her shoulders. "And if not, then they're foolish for not taking advice from the smartest girl I know." He smiled and kissed her on the forehead. He held himself there for a moment, then leaned back and stared into Betty's eyes. "Speaking of advice… I'll try harder. With Charles."

Betty held his hands in hers. "Thank you, Jug. That means so much to me." They began to walk back towards the stage. The Pussycats had finished their set and now Veronica was standing next to Archie. "And you don't have to protect me, you know," Betty continued. "I can take care of myself. I'm stronger, Jug, stronger because of what we've gone through."

"I know you are, Betty Cooper. I just, I just don't want to see you get hurt by family anymore."

"You neither, Jug."

"B! Jughead! So glad you guys could make it!" Veronica squealed, rushing Betty with a hug.

"Such a good night, V. And Archie," Betty looked over at the redhead, whose eyes were sparkling with unshed tears, "your dad would be so proud."

"Thank you, Betty." The four friends stood silent, staring up at the new building, fresh and clean. Unmarked. Pure. Then Archie pulled away, noticing Mad Dog motioning towards him. "Hey, I have to start the tours. Are you guys staying?"

"Archie, this is yours. We'll let you have some time with Mad Dog. I'm heading home to finish up some of the paperwork." Veronica smoothed out the shoulder ruffles on his suit, then turned to Betty and Jughead. "Shall we meet up at Pop's tomorrow for a celebratory breakfast?"

"How about lunch? I think I'm going to work on a Blue & Gold article about the grand opening and I'll probably be up for a while," Betty replied.

"What? Tonight?" Archie asked. "Betty, it can wait."

"There ain't no rest for the written, Archie," Jughead laughed, throwing his arm over Betty's shoulders. "I think I'll head home, too. I'm sure I'll be stopping by the center quite frequently, though. Serpents welcome?"

"Everyone is welcome," Archie grinned_._ Betty and Jughead smiled back. "Goodnight, then!" he called as he jogged towards Mad Dog and the small crowd awaiting entrance.

"See you tomorrow!" Veronica called as she headed towards her car.

Betty waved and turned back towards Jughead. "Jug, I need to swing by the school. I left my laptop in the Blue & Gold office. I'll meet you at home."

"There really _isn't _any rest for the written word with you, is there, Betty?" He smiled and hugged her one last time.

"Nope." She smiled back.

"Dad will be out late on patrol. I'm going to say goodnight to him now, but do you want me to stay up?"

"No, I'll be fine. Get some rest, you look exhausted. You've been staying up to write again, too," she said, running a finger over the dark bags under his eyes. "And like I said, you don't have to worry about me."

Jughead nodded and kissed her. Betty pulled away and the two began walking to their separate vehicles.

_And so the four friends parted ways that night, smiles as bright as the new coat of paint on the Andrews Community Center of Riverdale. The center gleamed, shining into the night like a lighthouse, shining as Riverdale's beacon of hope, now open and ready for life to teem within it. As the friends walked into their separate shadows, little did they know that the light shining over Riverdale that night would lose its hold on them. The darkness was retaliating, tightening its grip once more. Veronica's offhand exclamation of "See you tomorrow!" would linger like a solemn echo over three of the friends._

* * *

Veronica swung open the doors to her apartment. Throwing her purse down on the couch, the girl stopped. Something felt amiss. Her eyes scanned the apartment, landing on the door to her father's study, which stood slightly ajar.

* * *

Jughead brought his motorcycle to a halt outside the house on Elm Street. He looked up as one of the streetlamps flickered slowly. On and off. On and off.

* * *

Betty climbed out of the station wagon and stared up at the dark silhouette of Riverdale High School. A breeze rustled a nearby bush and Betty shuddered, looking up into the black night at two distant stars staring right back at her.

* * *

Archie waved goodbye to Mad Dog and headed towards the back of the building to lock up. The air had considerably cooled and the unfamiliar shadows stretching from the new furniture and wall hangings gave him further chills. He pushed the keys into their lock just as a crash rang out in the empty building.

* * *

Jughead trotted into the living room. Jellybean was sitting on the couch watching television. "Why are you still up?"

She shrugged. "I wanted to watch TV. That lamp outside has been flickering all evening and I can see it from my room."

"So the light from a television was better?" He heckled as he headed upstairs. "Get to bed!" he called down as he reached the top. Jughead climbed into his own bed, slipping off his shoes and jacket, immediately passing out.

* * *

Veronica crept slowly towards the cracked door, removing a heel and holding it out in front of her like a knife. Approaching the door, she gently reached for the handle. As soon as it was within her grasp, she flung it open and jumped inside the room. Nothing. Just scattered papers strewn on the desk. She let out an exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes. She had been working in there earlier. She liked working in her father's study; it felt as if she was affronting him from afar. Veronica glanced up at her father's portrait, up into those always watching eyes.

* * *

Archie twisted around in the air, his breath catching in his throat, and landed with fists raised.

"Woah, Woah! Just me! Sorry, Red!" Mad Dog had dropped a sandbag on the ground. "Sorry, there were still a few things to bring inside from the stage. Didn't mean to scare you."

Archie relaxed. "No, it's okay, Mad Dog. Ever since I found that brick, I've been a little on edge. Veronica thinks it's just some punk kids, but the message felt personal."

"I got you. I was jumpy too after getting out of juvie. There seems to always still be someone with a grudge out there. No matter how hard you try to shake them."

* * *

A breeze rustled the bushes outside the dark silhouette of Riverdale High School. Laying on the concrete ground next to a parked station wagon was a set of keys and a cracked phone with a light blue case, the owner nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters are mostly going to be long, BTW. This story is very chunky. 
> 
> How are you liking it so far? I don't take details lightly in this story, and I have goals of being a master foreshadower, so if you have any inklings and see any connections from earlier chapters in later chapters, please comment and point them out! I really want to know if stuff is working and if I'm sneaky enough with my details and dialogue.
> 
> Let me know what you think! I already have this whole story planned out, so any notes, theories, questions, etc. are welcome.


	3. For Whom the Bell Tolls

_Blue skies, moderate temperatures, and singing birds. The promise of a new day. Riverdale had awoken to a beautiful October morning, reminiscent of one of those picturesque scenes stamped onto the back of a postcard. Students slept in, relishing the start of the weekend after days of class and homework, parents leisurely headed to work, and kids played in the cool morning air. Everyone seemed so blissfully unaware of the quiet disappearance that had occurred the previous night. The same went for three of our tale's players - myself included - who had each too soon disregarded their moments of unease from the night before. _

Jughead yawned, blinking the last traces of sleep from his eyes. Stretching out his arms, he was surprised when he found open air next to him. Wrinkling his brow, he yawned once more and ambled to the bathroom.

"Morning, Jug," FP said from the kitchen as Jughead bounced down the stairs. "Or should I say almost afternoon." Jughead looked over at the clock on the wall; it read _11:02 AM._

"I crashed, didn't set an alarm for this morning," he groggily replied as he poured himself a cup of coffee. He looked over at his father as he took a sip. "Did you see Betty come in last night? She wasn't in the room when I woke up."

FP shook his head. "No, I haven't seen her. She didn't come home with you?"

"No, she had to pick up her laptop from the school."

"Hmm," FP mused, "must have just missed each other last night, that's all." He went back to his coffee and newspaper. Jughead checked his phone. No messages. He frowned; this wasn't like her. A cold wave began to trickle down his spine. _No, _he thought, _shake it off. Nothing's wrong. _FP noticed Jughead's demeanor. "Jug, I'm sure she's fine. She works even harder than you. And it's not like you haven't disappeared at Pop's for hours writing."

Pop's. "Shoot…" he remembered, "I'm meeting Archie and Veronica at Pop's. Betty's supposed to meet us there, too."

"Have fun. I'm gonna wake JB up, I found her staring at the TV when I got home last night," FP leered. "Kid's gonna be a night owl just like the rest of us."

Jughead nodded quickly, then headed out the door, pushing his growing fear to the back of his mind.

* * *

_Ding. _The bell above the front door to Pop's chimed as Jughead entered the diner. He looked around, spotting Archie and Veronica already nestled in one of the booths. He slid across from the two and signaled to Pop to take his order.

"Hey, Jughead. Where's Betty?" Archie asked as he took a sip from his milkshake.

"Not sure," Jughead said as Pop walked over to the teens. "A cheeseburger, order of onion rings, and a chocolate shake. Thanks," Jughead said offhandedly, then he turned back to Archie. "She wasn't home when I woke up."

"Wow, she really did want to get that article done. I bet she's perfecting it right now; she wanted Archie to see it hot off the presses," Veronica piped up, a small tic in her smile.

"Yeah, I bet you're right." His concern began to dissipate and almost fully vanished as Pop laid his food out in front of him. "And I'm not waiting to eat just because Betty decided to be a perfectionist." He took a large bite of his burger. "How'd the rest of the night go, Archie? The tours and such?"

"Great! A lot of people were interested and a ton of the kids were excited about all the games and toys we've collected so far. Mad Dog and I are really excited. As long as no more bricks come our way, we-,"

"Bricks?" Jughead questioned through a mouthful of burger, accidentally spitting a small spray of bun and lettuce bits onto the table in front of him. Veronica shot him a dismayed look and Jughead returned it with an upturned eyebrow and smug chew.

Archie leaned back in his seat. "Yeah… someone threw a brick through a window before the ceremony last night."

"Just some losers looking to cause trouble," Veronica interjected quickly.

"Maybe, but I don't know. The message, '_Hope is dead'_, felt too personal."

"I don't know, Archie, maybe you're just a bit paranoid considering everything that has happened recently. Not everyone in this town bounces back as optimistically as you, maybe someone was just simply upset and took it out on your building." Jughead slurped his chocolate shake, his eyes darting between the two friends across from him and the door to the diner.

Veronica followed his eyes. "She'll be here." She poked at her food gingerly. "But if she doesn't walk in that door in 20 minutes, I'm marching over to the school and making her stop myself."

"You and me both," Jughead said, shoving an onion ring in his mouth. The three friends ate in silence for a few minutes. _Ding. _All three pairs of eyes flicked towards the door. It wasn't Betty.

"How's your mom doing, Veronica?" Archie finally asked.

Veronica bobbled her chin, "As good as a former mafia wife and East Villager can be in jail."

_Ding. _Flick.

"I know that her hands aren't the cleanest, but I need a parent." She popped a fry into her mouth. Archie and Jughead both looked around the room. "Oh… sorry," she mumbled.

"No, it's okay, Ronnie," Archie said, swinging an arm over the top of the booth, "you deserve to help her out."

"Yeah," Jughead chimed in, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "It's not like the rest of our parents' records are spotless."

Archie reached out a hand and placed it on her shoulder. Veronica grabbed it and rubbed gently between his fingers. "We'll support you through this, try to help you get her out if that's what you want."

_Ding. _Flick.

"Coming from someone who's dad has spent time in the slammer, and who's best bud is a former juvenile delinquent-," Jughead jested, glancing at Archie, "-yeah, we'll do what we can to help. Plus, anything to continue to piss off Hiram is a win in my book."

Veronica let out a soft hiss. "Agreed. He may be in jail too, but he still needs to see that his little schemes won't break me."

_Ding. _Flick.

The three friends stared at their table in silence for a few minutes, as if holding in a collective breath. Veronica was wringing her hands on her lap, while Archie shifted his shoulders and Jughead adjusted his beanie.

"Maybe we should just head to the school. To check on Betty," Veronica offered.

"Good idea," both boys stated at once. They rose from the booth and clambered out the door, the once calming ring of the small bell above the door now adding a note of dread to their already apprehensive minds.

* * *

A clear, blue sky hung over Riverdale High School. The faint sound of a Saturday afternoon football practice greeted the friends as they drove up in Archie's car. The three bolted up the front steps and into the school.

"Straight to voicemail," Jughead muttered, lowering his phone from his ear. "Her phone is off."

He swerved into the Blue & Gold office, expecting to see a sleepy blonde sitting at the main desk, but instead found himself gazing into an empty room. His eyes swept the room before landing on a silver rectangle laying on the desk.

"Her laptop's still here," he mused, slowly walking over to it. He ran a hand over its case and winced. "And it's cold..." Veronica came up behind him while Archie walked over to the foggy window. Jughead brushed aside a falling piece of hair and swallowed back his rising panic. "She never made it here."

"Maybe not to the room, but she did make it here," Archie exclaimed, pulling apart a few blinds from the window. "Look!" Jughead and Veronica scrambled over, squinting against the bright sun pouring in through the window. Sitting alone in a side parking lot, slightly hidden in the shadow of a tree, was an all-too-familiar station wagon.

Jughead flew out of the room and slammed open a pair of side doors leading outside, Archie and Veronica run-walking behind him to keep up with his frantic pace. A small glitter of light below the car kept dipping in and out of view. Jughead stooped down next to the passenger side door and reached underneath the car. He pulled out a set of keys that jingled around as he turned them over in his hand. A large pit grew in his stomach as his head churned, caught in a riptide of dread.

"Jug…" came Archie's distressed voice from the other side of the car. He held up a cracked phone, its' light blue case dirty and smudged. Betty's phone. Veronica let out a small gasp and wrapped herself around Archie's arm. Jughead slammed his fists into the top of the car, his eyes seething. He stayed there, leaning, peering into the dark interior of his girlfriend's car.

"What does this mean?" Veronica uttered. "Was she attacked?"

"No," Jughead grumbled, still staring into the emptiness of the car, "Not just attacked. If she had been attacked and got away she would have found us, or she would have gone to the police station."

Archie shuffled, leaning from one foot to the other. "_And got away…"_ he repeated under his breath, "You're saying…?"

Jughead looked up at him with black and vacant eyes. "Put her phone back down where you found it. We have to call my dad. This is a crime scene."

* * *

Half an hour later police cruisers had the side lot at Riverdale High blocked off. Strands of yellow and black tape swung in the gentle autumn breeze, surrounding a small assembly of police officers. Jughead stood next to FP, who had a notepad in hand. Veronica leaned against a nearby tree while Archie sat on the curb behind Jughead. A few of the Bulldogs who were practicing had wandered over when the police arrived, but Archie had shooed them away and he was now staring at the football field making sure they stayed away.

"This is how we found it," recalled Jughead, "the keys were under the car while her phone was on the ground next to the driver's side. It was cracked when we found it. You'll find my prints and Archie's on them because we picked them up to have a closer look." His shoulders rose and fell, matching his labored breathing as he watched Betty's phone be placed inside a sealed evidence bag and taken away.

FP glanced at the car, then at the two other teens and let out a long sigh. "What were you doing at the school? What led you here?"

Jughead looked down, bouncing his head. When he looked back up at his father his eyes flared. "We were at Pop's, having lunch and waiting for Betty, but she never showed. We assumed she was trying to finish her article, so we headed here to check on her." He sucked in a shaky breath. "Dad, we found her laptop in the Blue & Gold office. And her car out here. She never made it inside."

FP stared sympathetically at his son, placing a hand on Jughead's shoulder.

"Dad, she came here last night. It must have happened then. She told me not to stay up and wait for her and I didn't. If I hadn't fallen asleep I would have noticed something was wrong."

"Stop it, Jughead. This is not your fault. None of us could have seen this coming." The glow in FP's eyes matched his son's. "Now, the three of you, go home. We'll take it from here, run forensics and check for fingerprints. Please, Jughead-," he took his son by his shoulders, "-please just be patient and let us do our thing first. I'll let you know as soon as possible if we find anything."

"Mr. Jones." Archie had sprung up behind Jughead, "Please, can't we do anything? It's Betty."

"I know, Archie, but we don't know who did this or why, or anything for that matter right now. I'm sorry." He straightened up, face turning stern. "Please go home. Clear your heads."

Archie huffed but nodded. He gently grabbed Jughead's arm, pulling him away from the scene and towards the tree where Veronica stood. "You're not going to be patient, are you?" he whispered to Jughead.

Jughead shook his head, eyes burrowing into his friend. "No, not one bit."

"Good. Neither are we." The redhead gestured toward Veronica, who nodded in agreement.

"But maybe your dad is right." Jughead and Archie gave Veronica a sharp look. "For now," she added, "rushing in emotionally in these types of situations hasn't always helped us in the past. For Betty's sake, we probably should take a step back and clear our heads."

Jughead just stared between the two of them for a few moments, breathing heavily, fighting against the raging tempest in his head. Finally, he nodded. "Okay. Clear head. For Betty."

Archie and Veronica nodded back and the three walked silently towards Archie's car.

_The people of Riverdale had let their guard down, and once more the unthinkable had happened. How do you clear your head when such a tragedy is so close? That's what we had to figure out as the town asked once again for its youth to turn aside and let the adults do their job. This wasn't reassuring, as their job in the past seemed to consist of fumbling in the dark, grasping at proverbial straws. _

_While we were no strangers to dark and twisted things, this one felt different. We've all been the subjects of morose happenings, but that was usually in the middle of a spree of killings or a murder investigation, not out of the blue. Now answers were all I wanted. That's all any of us wanted. How could we rest knowing one of our own was out there, alone, scared, and at the mercy of who-knows-what? Or, simply just who? It turns out we didn't have to wait long for that first maddening answer. Sometimes in Riverdale, you don't have to go looking for trouble, trouble comes looking for you._

* * *

Archie and Jughead walked up to their respective houses' steps, casting one last downhearted glance at each other before stepping inside. Jughead flopped onto the couch, tearing off his beanie in dejection. Rage, frustration, guilt, fear - he wasn't sure which he felt the strongest. An image of Betty, her green eyes wide in panic, lips curled in a silent scream, and limbs thrashing as a stranger whisked her away into the night burned into the back of his eyes.

He let out a soft moan, trying to shake the looping, troubling image away. _I didn't protect her, _he buried his head in his hands, _I didn't protect her and now she's gone. _

"Jughead?"

He yelped, startled at the sudden appearance of his sister at the foot of the stairs. "What's wrong? Dad looked upset when he left earlier."

"JB…," he said slowly. "Uh, it's Betty. It's… it's not good. She's missing."

* * *

FP slumped down on the chair in his office and rubbed his face with a shaky hand. _Why does everything keep falling apart?_ He glared absentmindedly at the paperwork on his desk. _A job – a good job – a house, both of his children back, but why did everything still feel so wrong? _

His eyes fell on the evidence board hanging on his wall, his gaze tracing the crisscrossing lines. Whatever pieces had finally been set in place in his life felt as if they were dislodging, ready to fall into a jumbled pile. The town was on the verge of becoming the subject of yet another one of his son's mystery novels, but instead of being the misguided scapegoat this time, he would be the laughing stock caricature of the sheriff, milling about aimlessly as younger protagonists swooped in for the glory. And somehow that was worse, more pathetic.

_Bringg! _The phone on his desk jolted him back to reality. "What now…?" he muttered before picking up the receiver. "Hello?" His face fell, draining of color as he listened to the voice on the other end. "Damn. Yeah, I'll send officers out right away. How long?" A pause. "Since yesterday? Alright, thank you."

FP hung up the phone in a hurry, grabbing his keys clumsily and flying out the door towards his cruiser.

* * *

Jughead cupped his hands, resting his chin in the crook of his fingers, and stared at his sister's perplexed face. "We found her car and phone by the school. I called dad to have him check it out. We don't know what happened."

Jellybean frowned; Jughead knew she was only partially grasping the gravity in his voice. She wrapped him in a hug. "You'll find her. You always do, you always figure it out."

Wiping away a quiet tear, Jughead couldn't help but smile. Between Archie and his sister, optimism wasn't fully dead in Riverdale. He hoped that she didn't grow into as much angst and cynicism as he had. He let his head fall on her shoulder, enveloping Jellybean in a returned hug.

The two stayed in their hug, momentarily escaping the ache lodged in Jughead's heart. Jellybean opened her eyes and stared out the window behind the couch, her mouth forming another confused frown. "Jug," she said warily, "who's that?"

"What?" Jughead looked over his shoulder. A man stood in the street adjacent the house, staring right back at him. He bolted upright, instinctively herding Jellybean behind him. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, complimenting the pounding he felt in his chest.

"Dad," Jughead said, raising his phone to his ear as he tried to steady his breathing.

* * *

"Jug, where are you right now?" FP shouted urgently into his phone. He was speeding down the street in his cruiser, the lights and siren blaring.

* * *

"I'm at the house. With JB."

"_Good. Stay there, I'm on my way. Listen, I just got a call that there's an escaped convict in town. Jughead, it's-,"_

"-Chic." Jughead finished his father's sentence, a fire burning in his chest, his brown eyes locked in silent contention with the wicked blue eyes staring steadily back at him through the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapters are pretty long from here on out. If you are enjoying or have any thoughts, please comment! Nice to see a few of you out there leaving some comments and kudos. 
> 
> Don't get comfortable either, there are plenty of twists and turns ahead!


	4. Nursery Rhymes (Part I)

Jughead reached instinctively into his pocket and folded his fingers over the cold blade hidden inside his jacket. "JB," he said, voice shaking, "stay in the house."

"Jughead, who is that?" she asked, her face twisting in confusion as her brother yanked open the front door.

"Stay in the house," Jughead repeated sternly, the door slamming behind him. Positioning himself at the top of the front steps, he brought out his knife and held it cautiously at his side. Chic stood in the middle of the street with his hands folded behind his back. He wore a bright orange jumpsuit and his still-red hair was short and ragged as if it had been cut haphazardly with an old pair of scissors.

"Jughead," he chuckled, "good to see you again. I heard you had moved into my old house." His raspy voice cut like knives into Jughead's mind.

Jughead snorted. "What did you do?" he asked in a quaking voice as rage pulsed behind his eyes.

Chic smirked, tilting his head as he answered, "Only what needed to be done." He took a step forward. Jughead flinched and raised his knife a little higher. "Ah ah ah, Jughead. Remember what happened the last time we got in a fight?"

"Yeah. I kicked your ass."

"That's funny because I remember almost choking you to death."

A small banging and clatter sounded nearby as Archie rushed into the street, his eyes wild and his grip tight around a bat. He stopped a few feet in front of Jughead before Chic raised a hand in his direction. "Now, now, Archie. There's no need for violence. Not yet." He smirked, "No, I'm only here to deliver a message."

Jughead and Archie exchanged a quick glance, slightly relaxing their stances. Jughead looked warily at Chic. "Let's have it, then."

Chic brought his hands in front of him; one remained closed into a fist, the other held up a folded sheet of paper. "We're going to play a little game. You like puzzles, don't you Jughead?" Jughead stared back, unwavering and unblinking. "How about scavenger hunts?"

Jughead's mouth curled into a snarl. "We don't have time for your games, Chic!" He sprung forward, holding his knife up to the convicts' face. Archie circled to Chic's other side, raising his bat and grimacing. Chic still held his sneer, but Jughead noticed something flicker behind the arrogant look in his eyes.

Just then, police sirens whirred to life as a cruiser swerved around the corner, coming to an abrupt halt a few feet away from the scene on the street. The door swung open and FP rose from the car, a gun poised in his outstretched arms. His eyes flipped between the shabby convict and his frenzied son.

Chic attempted to take a few steps back, but Jughead grabbed his collar and yanked him forward. His eyes and cheeks were glowing. "Answers!" he yelled, causing Chic to flinch. "We want answers, not a frivolous game!"

"Jughead! Back up, boy!" FP yelled. He had inched in front of the open car door with his gun pointed directly at Chic.

"I'd listen to your dad, Jughead." Chic raised his closed hand and let its contents fall slack. A small chain bounced around in the air in front of Jughead's eyes. He scrunched up his face and turned, tears prickling in the corner of his eyes. "You don't want Betty to get hurt, do you?"

Jughead pushed Chic back and snatched the necklace out of his hand, cradling it in his own. He let out a small whimper as his finger brushed over a dried red smear sticking out against the silver key pendant.

"You're sick!" Archie snarled as he leaned over Jug's shoulder. Jughead walked in a small circle, placing his hands on his hips. He stood still, only moving to suck in a deep breath. FP cautiously stepped closer and Archie kept his eyes trained on Chic, who smoothed out his wrinkled collar, regaining his air of conceit.

"Now, I hope you're familiar with your nursery rhymes." He waved the sheet of paper in front of his face, taunting the two glowering boys. Archie swiped for it, but Chic flung his hand back, raising his other and shaking a finger at the redhead.

Archie furrowed his brow. "What is that?"

"A riddle – a map – if you'd like." He folded his hands behind his back, taking a step backward. "You solve the riddle, you find Betty."

"I take it back, you're not sick, you're demented," Archie grumbled.

Chic cocked his head and smiled. "I'll give you this, but first, there are… conditions."

"Of course," Jughead growled.

"First, you lower your weapons. That includes the sheriff."

Archie looked at Jughead and slowly placed his bat on the ground. Jughead slowly folded his blade, placing it back in his pocket. FP lowered his gun. Jughead turned back to Chic with turbulent eyes.

"Good. Second, you let me walk."

"Not gonna happen," FP scoffed, "We've got you surrounded here and now."

Chic looked at FP. "Let me repeat myself. I walk, or-," he reached down and untucked a lighter from his sock, "or I burn this - your only lead, your only small connection to Betty left." He glanced at Jughead as he cheerfully breathed the last part of his threat, striking a small flame to life and holding it under the paper.

Archie took a step forward, but Jughead held a hand out in front of him. "No, Arch, he means it."

"Third," he lowered the lighter but kept it close. "If you call backup or any of your FBI pals, I make sure Betty dies. And last but not least, no adults allowed." FP frowned. "Sorry sheriff, but this is between me and your son."

Jughead whipped back around towards Chic. "So, what? We just go on your little scavenger hunt and that's it? You're a con man. And a _murderer. _What else?"

"Nothing," Chic said coolly, "If you figure out the riddle, you get Betty back. That's it."

Jughead was shaking. "Why?" he asked, eyes burning.

Chic strolled haughtily up to Jughead, his wicked blue eyes shining. He flipped the lid to the lighter open and the small flame danced in and out of view. "You and Betty think you're so smart, so, in control. But break up the little detectives? You get pain and suffering, and I get to watch you squirm. After everything you did to me, this is personal. I want to watch you break. If only for a moment." There it was again - that _thing - _this time wavering behind the bravado in Chic's grating voice.

"Now you're a psychopath," Archie chided, spitting daggers.

Chic slid his tongue between his teeth. "Do we have a deal?" He held out the folded note.

Jughead swiped it and Chic leaned back, grinning wryly. "Guess we do." He began walking backward toward the side of the street that was clear. "Have fun on your little quest. I'm sure Betty's having loads of it right now."

_Wham! _

A rock collided with Chic's forehead, sending him sprawling. Archie and Jughead ducked, looking around. FP brought his gun back out amidst the confusion. "Jug! Archie! Back! Back up!"

Jughead ran up the front steps to his sister. "Jellybean! I told you to stay in the house!"

"He was threatening you and dad!" she shouted, loading another rock into her slingshot.

Chic staggered to his feet; he looked dazed, but when he saw the gun in FP's raised arms, he bolted. Archie sprinted after him with FP racing close behind.

"Archie, back! I got this!" FP shouted, pushing the boy back. He stopped and fired, two shots ringing out into the neighborhood. One grazed Chic's shoulder, knocking him off balance. FP came up behind, tackling him the rest of the way to the ground. Jughead ran up beside Archie with Jellybean in tow as FP wrestled Chic's arms behind his back, placing handcuffs on his wrists.

"You don't get to make the rules. Not this time," FP spat, yanking Chic to his feet and dragging him towards his cruiser. "We're going to find Betty while you stay far away, where you can't hurt her."

Jughead and Archie watched as FP hauled Chic past them, pulling open the back door to his cruiser. Chic locked eyes with Jughead. "You made a mistake," he said waveringly as FP shoved him into the car, a small trickle of blood flowing down his eyebrow.

Jughead straightened up. Triumph? Fear? What was Chic hiding? His lip curled as he looked down at the partially crumpled note in his hand. He walked over to his dad and grabbed his arm. "Dad," he whispered, "don't tell the station about this." He held up the note. "Please. Just question Chic."

FP looked down and Jughead could see his thoughts churning. "Jug," he said quietly, "the last time we were sent on a quest like this, it was a trick. I don't want that to happen again."

"Dad," Jughead said with more urgency in his voice. "Just in case he isn't bluffing, let me handle this part. Until we know where she is. Then I'll call the police in. We don't know what kind of condition Chic has her in. Please, dad."

FP studied his son's face, then sighed. "Okay. But please, if you get in too deep or figure anything out, you call me." Then he ducked into his car, blared the sirens, and backed out of the street.

Jughead, Archie, and Jellybean were left standing in the middle of the road, staring as the police car drove off, Chic's lingering threats clogging their already troubled minds.

* * *

"What the hell? Chic wants us to go on some manic goose chase to find Betty?"

Jughead rubbed the silver necklace between his hands, nodding to Veronica's question. Archie had called her as soon as the cruiser had turned out of sight.

"If we solve the riddle it should lead us to Betty. At least, that's what we think. He said the riddle was like a map."

"But, why?"

Jughead massaged his temple, letting out a cold growl. "He said that he wanted to let us know we're not in control. Split up the detectives and watch us squirm without Betty's help."

Veronica groaned as she sat down on the couch. "Our poor girl…" She leaned her head into Archie's arm.

"Well, let's get to it," Archie said. "Jug, what's it say?"

Jughead smoothed the crumpled note out on the coffee room table:

"_Hey diddle, diddle,_

_You must solve this riddle_

_Before the rise of the moon._

_Search at the place _

_Where lies drain away,_

_Find the case and you'll see your friend soon."_

Jughead folded his hands together as he stared fervently at the piece of paper before him. _Games. Why did they always have to play God-forsaken games?_ _Always stuck as a pathetic pawn. _He huffed, "Okay, so, '_Hey diddle diddle, You must solve this riddle before the rise of the moon_.' He's giving us a deadline."

"Sunset," Archie guessed, rustling his hair. His baseball bat leaned against his leg, one arm still wrapped prudently around it.

"If your dad has Chic in custody, do we still need to worry about the time?" Veronica questioned. "I mean, if he was going to do something at sunset he can't now."

"I wouldn't take any chances," Jughead shot back. "Doesn't mean he hasn't already done something. Betty could be hurt. No, we're not taking any chances."

"We better stick to the rest of the rules then, just to be safe," Archie chimed in.

Jughead nodded. "Agreed."

"What?" Veronica chided, getting up and crossing her arms. "He's already with the police! Why shouldn't we bring them in on this?"

Jughead leaned back in his chair and placed a hand on his bouncing knee. "Something doesn't feel right. Chic's a con man. Him just walking up to our house in broad daylight? Knowing my dad is the sheriff? He may have been trying to intimidate us, but I think there's something else."

"What…" Veronica contemplated as she paced around the living room, "like he wanted to get caught?"

"It's a possibility, but I don't know," Jughead exhaled, swiveling back and forth in his chair. _I don't know, _his thoughts repeated.

Archie fidgeted in his seat and grabbed the note from the table. "We can figure that out later, can we get back to this? It's already two o'clock. If we have to find Betty by sunset that gives us roughly five hours." He lowered his eyes to the paper as Veronica and Jughead shared a quick glance. "_'Search at the place where lies drain away, find the case and you'll see your friend soon.'_ Okay… so we look at a place where lies go?_" _

"Great. That narrows it down to the entire town," Veronica puffed irritably.

Jughead shook his head. "Well, this is from Chic, so maybe something about him? One of his many lies?"

"What about that hotel place that Betty and her mom first found Chic? He was lying about being Charles," Archie guessed, looking at Jughead as he rested his chin on the top of his bat.

"I've been there before, they don't ask a lot of questions, but people still live there. Besides, the owner stabbed Chic once, I don't think he'd want to go back." Jughead shook his head slowly, "No, that's probably not it."

Veronica shifted uncomfortably, biting her lip. "How about Thornhill? It's probably where Chic squatted during his whole Gargoyle King stint, he would know the land well enough. And, well, the whole 'survive the night' thing didn't turn out in his favor, maybe he'd go back… to finish it?" She met Archie's eyes, a small shudder running down her back.

Jughead's hand bounced rapidly on his knee as his eyes zipped around the room. The clock on the wall ticked slowly, each hit of the minute hand pounding into his mind. "He _is_ the kind to hold a grudge," his voice unsteady, "and getting all four of us back there somehow… it's secluded, dark and eerie…"

Archie bolted upright, knocking his bat over with a jittering clang in the process. "That has to be it!" Veronica stood next to him and stared apprehensively down at Jughead.

Jughead grabbed the note and stuffed it in his pocket next to his knife. He ran his tongue along the inside of his cheeks and nodded slowly. "Let's get going."

* * *

Dense fog clung to the grounds of Thornhill, draping over the estate like a ghostly gown. Despite it being the middle of the day, long, dark shadows stretched out from the towering iron gates guarding the blackened, charred ruins of the mansion.

Jughead hopped from the car, pulling his leather jacket a little tighter around his frame. Archie grabbed a backpack and a few flashlights from the backseat as Veronica looked out over the property into the looming shadowy woods. "Maybe we should have called Cheryl? She would know this place better than we would."

Jughead shook his head. "No, this definitely feels like an 'inner-circle-only' type of job."

"Where do we start?" Archie asked, adjusting the straps on the backpack slung over his shoulders, one hand cradling a flashlight. "It said something about finding a case?"

"_Find the case and you'll see your friend soon," _Jughead repeated, his hand hovering over the pocket with the note and knife.

"This is a huge place, that could mean a lot of things," Veronica deliberated, "A bookcase? A chest or box of some sort? How is that supposed to help us find Betty?"

"Maybe the case holds a key?" Jughead added. "To unlock a room or something."

"Veronica's right, this place is huge. Let's split up, cover more ground." Archie tossed a flashlight to both Jughead and Veronica.

"No, Archie," Jughead stopped his friend from walking away. "Every time the Scooby gang splits up, one of them gets chased by a monster. No, we need to stay together." He turned toward the gravel pathway leading into the forest and watched as dark tree branches danced in the cold wind. "The Hunting Lodge. That would make the most sense, let's head there."

Archie and Veronica nodded, following Jughead as he quickly trudged up the shady and twisted path into the woods.

xxx

Archie shined his flashlight into the dusty interior of one of the red barns adorning the path. Rows of abandoned barrels lined the inside. His light glinted off a corroded hook and chain swinging shrilly in the dusty rafters. He frowned, quickly switching his flashlight off and jogged ahead to catch up with Jughead.

"Hey," he said quietly, looking back at Veronica, who was trailing behind them. "Are you okay, Jug? I mean, I know we're in a really screwed up situation, but you seem, like, really freaked."

Jughead stared straight ahead as he walked in silence for a few moments, then he answered, "Something isn't right about all this."

"Betty got kidnapped. Nothing's right about that."

"No, no, beyond that. Everything about Chic's behavior. There was something behind his act, something in his eyes while he was taunting us." He shook his head. "There's something I'm missing."

"We, Jug," Archie pressed, "_We're _missing something. You're not in this alone."

Jughead looked down at his feet and swallowed. "Just-it's just that everything was starting to go so right! Things were dying down and shaping up. Settling. Why are we such fools to think that after everything that's happened to us, that we can have happy lives?"

"Jug," Archie stopped and grabbed his friends' shoulders, "Jug, stop don't think like that. Yeah, this sucks right now. And other things have sucked for us before, but that doesn't mean we can't have happy lives. My dad taught me better than that. We have to keep getting back up and showing whatever it is that's in front of us that we are stronger than it. Betty's going to be fine. She's the strongest of all of us and we're going to find her."

Jughead's eyes burned. Archie clapped a hand on his shoulder as Veronica caught up to them. "Not to break up this sweet moment boys, but look, we're almost there."

xxx

The boys looked up at the unnerving lodge looming in front of them. The wooden steps creaked underneath their feet as they climbed to the front door. The three looked at each other anxiously and Jughead swallowed, then nodded, slowly opening the door. Stale air met them as they entered the large dining room. Cups and plates lay scattered over the mahogany table, its thick layer of dust matching that on the ornate chandelier overhead. Dead, cracked wood lay in the derelict fireplace, ash still clinging to the grate.

"More déjà vu…" Veronica whispered, shaking her flashlight to life.

Jughead scanned the room, his eyes floating upwards to the balcony lined with sooty portraits and closed doors. "Betty?" he called tentatively. The three friends held their breath but Jughead's question was only answered with an unsettling silence.

"Come on," Archie said, "let's try all the doors. Look for any kind of case or chest along the way." He walked over to the closest door and tried the knob, stepping inside as it swung open with a loud groan. Veronica trotted to the far side of the room and disappeared into the kitchen. Jughead started to climb the staircase, placing one hand along the splintered banister.

His steps echoed through the empty chamber as he reached the landing. One door sat to his left, and another a few feet down the hall. He turned to his left and pushed his way into the first room. A standing mirror sat in the corner adjacent to a fully made-up bed, a section of its' checkered comforter pulled back. Jughead ran his hand over the sheets, brushing up against what, in the dim glow of his flashlight, looked like a hospital gown. He grabbed it and turned it over in his hand, but quickly dropped it back on the bed, briefly wondering about what odd circumstances brought about the small scene in the room, stuck abandoned and frozen in time.

He turned around and jumped slightly, caught off guard by his reflection in the mirror. _Wow, I look horrible, _he thought. The bags under his eyes were dark and hollow. His black hair was tangled and jostled and his gray beanie was hanging crookedly off his head. He took a moment to readjust his hat and then he sighed, walking back into the hallway and out of the phantom grip of the peculiar lingering familiarity of the previous room.

He stood in front of the other door and turned the knob, catching resistance. Locked_. _Jughead's heart began to thump. "Betty!" he called again, but again was met with silence. He slammed a fist on the door, shaking a layer of dust into the air. He coughed as he backed up and braced himself, then charged, slamming his shoulder into the door. It gave way and Jughead had to catch himself on a chair as he pitched into the room. He looked around, letting out a shaky breath. The room was filled with wrapped furniture and portraits. A few cardboard boxes were strewn across the floor. He ripped open the nearest one; it was filled with newspaper and glassware. He tried the next. Newspaper and silverware. It was just a storage room. He kicked a box then tramped back to the balcony.

"It looks like we're the only ones who have been here in months," Archie's voice rang out through the lodge. "No footprints or anything remotely clean. I didn't find anything."

"Me neither," Veronica called. "I know we were already looking for something on ambiguous terms, but I don't think anything is here."

Jughead stomped down the steps, a defeated look plastered across his face. "No, nothing is here. Just cobwebs and ghosts."

Archie, Veronica, and Jughead plodded back into the cool afternoon air. Clouds had covered the sun overhead and the woods of Thornhill had somehow grown darker.

"Well, that was a nice trip down memory lane," Veronica said, trying to brush dust and cobwebs from her blouse.

"What now? The woods?" Archie asked, gesturing toward the trees surrounding them. "That could take hours."

"We don't have that much time," Jughead barked. "I'm not sure this is the right place." He put his hands on his hips and kicked a patch of grass.

"I was sure this would be it," Veronica moaned as she shook her head, "but all this place is now is a nightmare dump."

Jughead looked at her, his thoughts churning as a sudden pit formed in his stomach. "Dump…" he muttered to himself. He gasped, "Veronica! That's it. It's a play on words!" He yanked the note out of his pocket, his fingers fumbling as he tried to unfold it. "_Search at the place where lies drain away. _Drain away! He's talking about Swedlow Swamp!"

Veronica and Archie stared in confusion at Jughead. He cocked his head. "Last year after Chic accidentally killed that drug dealer, Betty and I dumped his car in the swamp. Betty and Mrs. Cooper hid the body in a drainpipe near the swamp. He's talking about that secret! We've had to lie about it ever since to cover up for Chic." His eyes were frantic and he started to step backward. "That's where we have to go! Come on!"

Jughead broke into a sprint, Archie and Veronica hot on his heels.

* * *

FP clambered down the old ladder and dropped the last two rungs, a clanging echo resounding throughout the metal bunker. Walking over to the main room, he dropped a Pop's take-out bag on the bed before lounging on the old mattress. Chic was slumped in front of him, tied to a metal chair, a messy bandage wrapped around his left arm.

"Finally," he croaked, "I'm starving."

"Oh no," FP leered, unwrapping a burger and shoving it in his mouth. "Kidnapping assholes don't have the right to food. Not down here."

"Why aren't we at the station?" Chic asked, nervously looking up and down at FP.

"You asked for no police or FBI, didn't you? Well, you got it. No Sheriff Jones here, just ole no-good FP the Serpent," he chided, slurping on his soda. "Now, we're just gonna have a little chat. Snake to snake."

Chic's lip curled into a snarl. "Good luck with that."

"Oh, you don't want to talk? Too bad." He took a switchblade from his pocket and flipped it open and closed. Open, closed. Open, closed. "How'd you break out? Shankshaw's not an easy place to get out of."

Chic smirked, "Good thing I wasn't in Shankshaw, then."

FP frowned, "That's where we sent you."

"I got transferred. I'm very persuasive," he said, coolly dragging out the last word.

FP chucked his burger wrapper across the floor. "Hiram's prison. You were in Hiram's prison." Chic stared vacantly back at him. "What, cozy rooms and a small wage not good enough for ya'?"

"I told you, I have unfinished business," he sneered, leaning closer to FP.

FP studied Chic's face for a moment before swinging his fist into the man's jaw. Chic crumpled over, blood flowing from his lip.

Chic spurted, coughing through the blood. "I thought you didn't roll this way anymore."

"You abducted Betty! I'll do whatever it takes to get her back. I'm not watching an innocent kid die again," FP snapped, resisting the urge to pound Chic a second time. "Now-," he flipped the switchblade in Chic's face, "where is she?"

Chic spit and slowly raised his eyes to FP's. "Gone. Not here."

"What did you do with her?"

"She left me to die, I'm leaving her to die," Chic calmly retorted.

"Not good enough, where is she?" FP howled, grabbing Chic's shoulders. "Or do you want to be left to die again? I can just leave you down here, nobody will come to help." Chic's face relaxed, fading to a frown. "Uh-huh, you don't want to die. You like living your miserable little life. So here are my conditions: either you can answer me and I make sure you get help, or I can leave you down here alone."

Chic looked away from FP and stared around the room. "You don't scare me," he muttered.

"Oh no? Who would? My FBI buddies? Your old pal Charles, maybe?"

Chic snapped his head back to FP. "What do you mean? Charles is dead."

FP chortled. "Oh… you don't know? Charles is alive and he's in the FBI. How's that for a twist? You want me to go get him and tell him what you did to his sister?" Chic's mouth was cracked open slightly, his brow wrinkling in disbelief. "You know what, maybe I will. I bet he's got more tricks than I do. I just punch. But an FBI agent…" FP shook his head, blowing a sad whistle at Chic.

"I watched him die…" Chic said blankly.

"No, you let him die! Just like you keep letting other people die! Now, stop messing around. Where's Betty?"

Chic straightened back up, his mouth twitching and eyes watering. "I don't know," he said softly.

"Stop it with the act!" FP bellowed, lifting his fist.

* * *

Green and orange bushes rustled as Jughead, Archie, and Veronica burst into a clearing near Swedlow Swamp. Jughead looked around, nodding to himself. "It was right here. This is where we pushed the car. Let's sweep the area around here. I know the drainpipe is around here somewhere…" His voice trailed off as he jogged to the edge of the swamp, staring into its filthy waters.

Archie trudged off to the left, pushing aside tree branches and weeds. Veronica walked to the right, gingerly stepping through patches of mud. "Call out if you find anything!" she shouted back.

Jughead ran alongside the shore of the swamp, his eyes sweeping the foliage that lined the wetland. He crouched down beside an indent in the mud; it was the jagged outline of a large footprint. He traced it with two fingers, running this hand behind the footprint to another marking. He stared at what appeared to be draglines, next to which snapped grass and crushed plants littered the path. "Oh, Betts…" he whispered, his rapid imagination tugging at his heart. He followed the markings to another clearing where the lines became a jumbled mess of mud and large leaves.

A large, billowy leaf lay in the middle of the clearing, its' large stem muddy and broken. Jughead picked it up and spun it around in his hands. His gaze fell over the mess of lines and slashes patterned in the dirt. Someone had tried to cover up their tracks.

"Guys!" Archie's voice reverberated through the air, distress filling his tone. Jughead bolted in the direction of the call and found Archie crouched in front of the opening to a large drainpipe, eyes wide at whatever was in the hazy light of his flashlight. Veronica came crashing behind Jughead and the two leaned over Archie's shoulders.

"No!" Veronica squeaked as Jughead scrambled into the pipe. Laying inside the wide duct, grimly illuminated by Archie's flashlight, was a large brown coffin with a lock and chain bound around it.

"Rock!" Jughead screamed, pulling at the chains wrapped around the casket. "Betty!"

Archie found a large rock near the opening to the pipe and handed it to Jughead. He crawled around to the other side of the casket and starting yanking at the chains. Jughead smashed the rock against the lock, coming down harder and harder each time until, finally, the lock snapped.

Jughead unhooked the broken lock and threw it down the pipe and he and Archie started unwrapping the chains from the box. Veronica held shakily onto the flashlight, her mouth agape. As he shimmied the last chain away, Jughead jerked open the lid. "Betty!"

The three friends gasped simultaneously. Veronica fell back against the side of the drain. Jughead sucked in a choked breath, smashing his hands against the floor. Empty. The coffin was empty except for a lone note laying mockingly on the white cloth lining of the wooden case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so long, I had to split it up into two parts! If you feel so led, please leave some comments! I love feedback and engagement with my work.


	5. Nursery Rhymes (Part II)

Jughead drew in a shaky breath and forced himself to look into the interior of the coffin_. _He picked up the piece of paper and lifted it to his misty eyes. He groaned, "It's another riddle."

Archie and Veronica wiggled out of the drainpipe and shakily stood up. "Jughead," Archie said, looking back at his friend who was still sitting in the pipe, his legs folded up to his chest next to the coffin. He held out a hand and pulled Jughead up.

"It's another stupid trick," Jughead scoffed. "Chic is a dead man."

Archie pulled out his phone. _4:03 PM, _the screen glared back at him. He looked at Jughead, "What's it say?"

Jughead held out the note and the three teens leaned over the top of it:

"_Three blind mice. Three blind mice._

_See how they run isn't it fun?_

_The box is a clue to door number two_

_Where Betty's got a room with a view._

_Did you ever see such a sight in your life?_

_Those three blind mice. _

"Ugh, this man needs to stop writing poetry," Veronica chided.

"Ronnie!" Archie retorted.

She looked down. "Sorry, this is just… stressful."

Jughead grunted, "Blind mice… he's taunting us from behind a freaking riddle."

Archie yelled, kicking the casket.

"Archie!" Veronica pulled him back. "Calm down, this isn't over yet. We still need to keep our heads."

Jughead nodded. "Okay, okay, so I think this one's easier. '_The box is a clue to door number two.' _Where do you find coffins?"

"The cemetery?" Archie ventured. "He's sending us to the cemetery."

"That _is_ where she brought Chic to the Black Hood, it would make sense." Jughead crossed his arms. "Doesn't make me feel good, but it makes sense in this sick game."

"'_Where Betty's got a room with a view'. _What does that mean?" Veronica wondered.

"Not sure yet, but it sounds like she's actually there this time." Jughead twisted his heel in the mud. "We better get going. We don't want to waste any more time."

* * *

Blurry. The whole world was blurry.

Betty blinked as she slowly regained consciousness. "Urrff," she managed to choke out, her throat dry and sore. The last thing she remembered was staring up at Riverdale High, and then the prick of a cold needle being shoved into her neck as a gloved hand covered her mouth. She hadn't even had time to scream before darkness swallowed her. Now she was lying on a hard, unfamiliar floor.

The blurs began to take shape through the kaleidoscope diamonds that were still hanging in the corners of her vision. She tried to move; her body felt awkwardly heavy and her head was pounding. She moved her arms and then her legs. _No restraints_, _that's good, _she managed to think, _I can move around. _Betty brought herself up on an elbow and looked around. She sat on a wooden floor that matched the paneled walls around her. A small, blue couch sat underneath a window, where faint light trickled in through the bars across the glass.

_Okay, _she thought, _so it's daytime. _Betty's eyes drifted across the rest of the room, then darted back to the window. _Wait, bars on the windows? _She shifted her weight until she was sitting fully upright. She shuffled over towards the couch, grabbing the edge, and pulled herself to her feet. "Ow…" she groaned as a burning sensation ran down her arm. Her vision swam in and out and her temple began throbbing. A large cut stretched down her arm and a few sections of it were still tender and open.

She bit her lip and pulled her eyes away from the injury, staring back up at the tiny window. She blew a few pieces of limp hair from her eyes, gazing at the black steel bars covering the window. Betty's heart began to pound as she turned away and surveyed the rest of the room.

There was a small kitchenette on one side of the room and only one other piece of furniture besides the couch. A wooden rocking chair sat in a corner next to a brick fireplace. There were no pictures on the walls - just plain wooden panels contrasted by a chipped white door. "What…" Betty breathed as she walked slowly towards the door. She wrapped the doorknob in her fist, turning and tugging, but the door did not give way. She placed her shoulder on the door and rammed a bit harder, and this time a muffled rattle of metal sounded from the outside.

Betty's heart thundered in her chest. Wherever she was, it was clear that she wasn't meant to get out.

* * *

Jughead slammed the door to Archie's car and jogged up to the black gate surrounding the cemetery. His heart pounded; all of Chic's allusions to death were not sitting well in his mind. Archie and Veronica jogged up beside him.

"Okay, so we're at the cemetery. '_Where Betty has a room with a view' _is the next part of the riddle. Is it another play on words?" Veronica asked.

Jughead looked out across the gravestones. "Uhh, well a room seems pretty straight forward, but a graveyard doesn't have rooms."

"You don't think she's…?" Archie's voice trailed off as he stared at a freshly dug grave nearby. Jughead's eyes followed.

"No. No, Archie. I don't think so." He swallowed, trying to convince himself as much, as the same thought had crossed his mind. "Maybe she's somewhere around the cemetery. Like an apartment or something and he's alluding to the cemetery being the view."

"Okay, well, let's just start looking," Veronica begged, swinging open the gate. "I don't want to just stand around." Archie and Jughead slid in behind her and the three walked in silence, eyes peeled for anything that would help their friend.

xxx

Veronica walked quietly beside Archie, periodically shooting him nervous looks. Archie's face was bright red and his breathing sounded uneasy. "Archie?" she asked. He kept walking, not noticing Veronica's question.

"Archie!" Veronica said louder. The redhead jerked, his eyes turning toward her. "Archie, what's wrong?"

Archie stopped and put his hands in the pockets of his varsity jacket, letting out a long sigh. "The last time I was here was to bury my dad."

Veronica's face dropped. She grabbed one of Archie's hands out of his pocket and wrapped her own around it. "Archie, I'm so sorry. It's probably still so fresh for you."

He nodded. "It is." A ragged breath whistled out from between his teeth. "And to be back here, in this kind of situation, it's really weird." The corner of his eyes watered. "I don't want to have to bury Betty, too."

"Don't talk like that! We are not going to have to bury Betty! She's fine." Veronica gulped back a cry. "B is fine."

Archie wiped a hand across his face. "Do you remember the night that Betty and I thought we got the Black Hood? You know, when it was actually Svenson?" Veronica nodded. "The Black Hood made me climb into a grave and forced Betty to bury me alive," Archie swallowed, " I-I don't want to have to dig up Betty, either."

Veronica looked down, now holding back tears herself. She had tried so desperately to block any morbid images of Betty from her mind. It was just too much to think about, and besides, _someone_ had to keep a clear head. It certainly wasn't going to be Jughead, and Archie reacted too emotionally in any situation, but now everything was rising to the surface. "It's okay, Archie," she choked out, "that won't happen." The two stood there, holding hands, tears slowly rolling down their cheeks. "Come on, Archiekins, we need to keep moving."

xxx

Jughead was on the other side of the cemetery when he noticed Archie and Veronica stop. At first, he thought they had found something, then he noticed their entwined hands. He sighed and kicked a bit of loose dirt away from a grave. His hands dug into his pockets where the two taunting riddles resided.

He looked up, scanning the buildings and billboards surrounding the graveyard for any fleeting answer to the location of his girlfriend. Then he found it - a name etched into the top of a marbled gray mausoleum halfway across the cemetery from where he stood. "Guys! Over there!"

Jughead saw Archie and Veronica swing their heads in his direction as he raced towards the large mausoleum. They dropped their hands and ran after him. Jughead held his arms out, skidding to a halt in front of the vault to keep Archie and Veronica from colliding with him. "AVIEW" was etched above the large heavy door.

"It's a family name," Jughead breathed. "A room with a view _was_ another play on words."

"A crypt?" Veronica panted, coming to a stop beside Jughead. "That creep is keeping Betty in a crypt?"

"It's way better than underground," Archie responded, rushing forward to the large, black door. "Jug, come on, help me open it."

Jughead began to step forward but felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He looked at it before holding it up to his ear. "Dad?"

* * *

"Jug," FP sighed, wiping a bit of blood from his knuckles. Chic sat slumped over in his chair, blood dripping from his snarled mouth. "Are you okay? Have you found anything?"

"_We figured out the first riddle. It just led us to another note, another riddle."_

FP grunted, closing his eyes, "Again?"

"_Yeah, I know. But we figured out the second clue and we think we've found it. Betty's close. We're at the cemetery."_

FP froze. "The cemetery. Jug, is-?"

Chic spat, laughing through red teeth. "They're just now at the cemetery? Wow, they're even slower than I thought."

"Shut up!" FP yelled at Chic, pulling away from the call. He put his phone back up to his ear, but continued to glare at Chic.

"_We think so. It's okay, we're just about to get into the crypt now. Anything useful out of Chic?"_

FP straightened up, placing a hand on his belt. "Not so much. He won't talk, keeps denying that he knows where Betty is." He got up from the bed and walked over to another corner, turning his back on Chic. "But I did learn that he escaped from Hiram's prison, not Shankshaw."

* * *

"What?" Jughead exclaimed, stealing a small glance at Veronica. "That's… interesting."

"_Yeah, and he had no idea that Charles is alive. But he seems scared of something. He only lets it show slightly, but I can see it."_

"Yeah, I noticed that too when he was outside the house. He's still hiding something."

"_Jug, please be careful_." FP lowered his voice to a whisper, "_I'm gonna come meet up with you, I'm not getting anything out of this-," _FP's voice cut off as Jughead heard a yelp and a thud on the other end of the line.

"Dad?" Jughead yelled. "Dad!"

* * *

FP lay unconscious on the ground, blood trickling down the back of his neck. Chic dropped the metal chair to the ground with a harsh _clank, _throwing down the ropes from his wrist with it. He stepped over FP's body and grabbed the phone.

"Jughead," he darkly cooed, "told you that you made a mistake. Betty's going to pay for that."

* * *

_Click. _

The line went dead and Jughead pulled the phone away from his pale face.

Archie was still trying to wrench open the crypt door, but Veronica looked curiously over at Jughead, noticing his ghostly demeanor. "What is it?"

"Chic's loose," he said slowly, "and I don't think Betty's in there." He rushed forward, jamming himself in front of the door next to Archie, and pulled with all his might. A small crack appeared and the two dropped inside the opening, pushing and straining against the heavy door, its' base scraping against the marble floor. Archie groaned and sprinted inside as soon as the door opened wide enough. Jughead and Veronica followed.

The interior of the vault was dark and dusty; only a small ray of sunlight from the cracked door reached inside. Veronica clicked on her flashlight and swept the beam around the chamber. A few large alcoves sat sunken in the two side walls with five or so grubby urns situated irregularly amongst the cubby holes. Cobwebs lined most of the cavities, but one seemed recently swept clean. Jughead reached his hand in and pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper tied around the middle with a ponytail holder.

"Dammit!" he yelled. "He's still jerking us around, and now he's free. He said Betty's going to pay for our mistake!"

"Then we get to her first!" Archie roared back as he stepped out into the dying sunlight.

Jughead looked at his phone. _5:56 PM. _They had about an hour until sundown, probably even less time now that Chic was on the loose again.

Jughead gently rolled the ponytail holder down the paper and placed it into his pocket. He unraveled the paper and scowled, "Another nursery rhyme." He read:

"_Row, row, row your boat_

_Gently across the stream._

_Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily_

_Her life will end in a scream."_

"And there's a picture of what looks like a cabin," Jughead noted, handing the paper to Archie, who studied it with an upturned brow.

"Sweetwater River! She's across Sweetwater River!" Veronica chanted. "That has to be it. We have to cross the river and look for some sort of cabin."

"Yeah, before Chic finds her," Jughead puffed, already racing back to the cemetery gate.

* * *

Archie's car screeched into the parking lot of Riverdale's boat rental. The three shot out of the car and over to the locked door of the dark storefront. Jughead backed up and read the small sign in the window. "_Closed for the season. See you next summer!" _

"Great, useless. Just like everything else!"

"Jughead, calm down. They still keep some canoes out by the docks, we'll just borrow one," Veronica said steadily, laying a hand on his arm.

"Yeah, aren't you deputized? If anyone asks, you're commandeering it for police purposes," Archie added.

Jughead gave him an exasperated look, then proceeded to head down the steps towards the docks. His phone once more went off. "Dad!"

"_Jughead, Chic escaped," _FP slurred in a dazed voice. "_Whacked me real good, too."_

"We know! He said Betty's going to pay, and we found a last riddle in the cemetery. She's across Sweetwater River, in a cabin in the woods somewhere. We're getting a boat now. Can you get over here, too?"

"_Yeah, Jug. I'll be over as soon as I can." _

Jughead shoved his phone back into his pocket and stumbled onto the wobbly dock. Archie and Veronica were pulling a large canoe from a rack and placing it in the water. Jughead grabbed a few paddles, threw them in the boat, and hopped in with a thud. Archie and Veronica climbed in more gently in front of him. Archie grabbed a paddle and pushed it against the side of the dock, floating the canoe into open water. The three friends began rowing across the merciless waters of Sweetwater River as the sun sank lower and lower in the evening sky above them.

xxx

An eerie, still silence hung over the river, broken only by two paddles slicing through the cold, churning waters. Archie stared straight ahead, eyes locked on the looming shore ahead, his paddle pumping through the water. Veronica sat in the middle staring compulsively at the riddle and drawing, her phone in hand. _6:23 PM. _Jughead read as he looked over her shoulder while paddling in the rear of the canoe, causing him to accidentally splash the side of the boat with his choppy strokes.

"Hey!" Veronica hissed as a spray of water droplets fell over the note. She turned around to find Jughead staring aimlessly at the water. She softened her tone. "Jughead, we're almost there. Everything is going to be fine."

He looked at her, the bags under his eyes darkening with his glare. "Is it? Do we know that?" He plunged his paddle into the river and pushed. Veronica frowned and placed a hand on his.

Jughead pulled his paddle over his lap and looked up at Archie, who was intensely, but steadily, paddling. Jughead lowered his head and his voice, "Veronica, my dad got something interesting out of Chic. He said he escaped from your dad's prison."

Veronica pulled her hand back and lowered her eyes away from Jughead. "That… that doesn't make any sense. He only has high-end security, and no doubt they are all still in his pocket. He wouldn't let any prisoners escape, it would look bad for his already tarnished reputation."

"Yeah, that's the thing. Everything you said is probably correct, including the guards in his pocket. So how-," he leaned closer to Veronica, "did Chic get out if not on purpose?"

"No, he doesn't even know Chic as far as I know. He has no vendetta with Betty – the three of us, yes – but not Betty."

"Hey! A little help, Jug?" Archie called from the front of the canoe, which had started to spin.

"Sorry," Jughead murmured, resuming paddling. He looked back at Veronica, "Well, what if that's just it? He's trying to get back at all three of us at once and Betty happened to be the bait that connects us all?"

"He wouldn't stoop to that. No… he wouldn't." Veronica shook her head as if trying to shake away the dreadful thought.

"He tried to have me killed by Ghoulie and he sent Archie to prison for a crime he didn't commit," Jughead retorted darkly. "Kidnapping doesn't seem so far-fetched."

Veronica shook her head even harder. "No, this is Chic. He's the one with the grudge, my dad isn't involved." She turned her back to Jughead, fiddling with the edges of the paper in her hand.

"I hope you're right," Jughead muttered to himself, turning his gaze to the rising tree line ahead of them. "But still, Chic is smart, but not this smart…"

"Guys, we made it! Come on!" Archie cried as he hopped from the canoe into the shallows, pulling the boat onto the sandy bank. Jughead did the same and pushed the boat forward. As soon as it hit the shore, Archie helped Veronica out and raced up to the edge of the tree line.

"Now what? How do we know what direction to look?" Archie panted.

Jughead scanned the forest, then lifted his eyes to the sky, his gaze landing on a thin, grey tendril outlined against the orange sky. He pointed towards it and yelled, "There! Smoke! It might be from the cabin." The three darted into a forest for the second time that day, chasing after a distant wisp of a smoke trail.

* * *

Betty climbed on top of the couch and peered out the small window. Green, brown, and yellow leaves filled her view as trees and bushes swished around in the slight breeze. She pulled at the metal bars over the glass, which unsurprisingly gave no budge. She hopped down and closed her eyes, trying to steady her breathing. She could just make out what sounded like rushing water, but it sounded jumbled and distant.

"Okay, Betty, think…" she said to herself. She racked her brain trying to remember any details from the night before, but her mind still felt fuzzy. _I was at the school, to get my laptop_. She remembered dropping her keys as she tried to grab her phone. A second hand had grabbed it from her, flinging it to the ground as she fell into unconsciousness. Then everything else was black, just black.

_Male, _she thought, _I'm pretty sure it was a male. _"Which makes being locked in a creepy cabin in the woods even worse," she mumbled. Betty got up and walked back over to the door. She pounded her fists on the wood and screamed weakly, her voice still hoarse. "Hey! Is anyone out there? Help!" She stopped and listened. She was answered only by the indistinct trickle of flowing water. She beat her fist on the door once more and softly placed her forehead to the wood, then twisted, turning her back up against the door and slowly dropped to the ground.

Betty pressed the palm of her hands to her forehead and steadily breathed in and out, trying to slow her thumping heart. _No one knows where I am. I don't know where I am. _She looked up at the fading sunlight streaming through the window. _It's been almost a day, people have to be looking for me. Jughead has to be looking for me. _She let her gaze wander over the bare room once more, this time noticing another door on the opposite wall.

She stood up and slowly walked over; it was another wooden door, but less worn than the first. Betty grabbed the handle and turned. The knob kept turning and, _click_! She sucked in a piercing breath and cracked the door.

* * *

Jughead, Archie, and Veronica ran swiftly towards the stream of smoke that was just visible through the thick canopy of trees. Mud and thistles caked the teens' pants as they barreled through the woods. "Betty!" Archie called into the trees, stumbling over a fallen log.

Jughead stopped, realizing he had lost sight of the smoke amidst the long branches above him. "Crap! Can you guys see it?" Veronica stopped and Archie jogged in a small circle, both of them looking up at the sky. Jughead looked between the trees and sucked in a breath. In the distance he could just make out a small, black outline, a billowy shimmer rising from it. "There!"

_Crack! _

A loud snap bounced around the forest, causing a few startled birds to scatter into the sky. All three friends froze and whipped their heads in the direction of the sound. Bushes rustled. Something was moving and it was headed directly towards them. Archie pushed Veronica behind him as Jughead whipped out his knife. He put his finger to his lips while he slowly and silently inched forward.

The rustling grew closer and closer until a man came lurching out of the bushes with a raised gun in his hands.

"Dad!" Jughead hollered, dropping his arms to his sides. "Dad, you sounded like a freaking bear!"

"Yeah, well you kids weren't any quieter." FP lowered his weapon. "Did you find it?"

Jughead pointed to the silhouette in the distance. FP glanced in the direction of the cabin, then turned back to his son and nodded, raising and cocking his gun. The four took off in the direction of that lone cabin in the woods.

* * *

Betty slowly peeked around the half-open door. The room before her was dark, but she could make out a bed and another open area - a small bathroom. She stood in the doorway with her arms spread out against each doorpost and hung her head. Letting out a small huff, she walked back into the kitchenette and began yanking open all the cabinets and drawers. _Nothing. There's nothing here. _Each new drawer she opened gave her the same result; empty.

She slammed her hands down on the counter, letting out a frustrated cry. Then she froze.

Voices. She could hear the faint sound of voices outside the cabin.

* * *

FP and Jughead stood staring at the front of a plain log cabin where a steady stream of smoke was emitting from a brick chimney. Archie and Veronica circled around the side of the cabin. FP raised his gun and slowly walked up to the wooden steps leading to the front door. Jughead raised his knife and followed.

Archie and Veronica jogged up behind them and Archie nodded at FP, giving the all-clear. FP wrapped his fingers tightly over his trigger and looked over at his son. Jughead returned the look, the two locking eyes. Then father and son rushed forward. "Police!" FP cried, shooting the large lock on the door. Jughead lurched forward, ramming himself into the door.

* * *

Betty gingerly edged forward, trying to listen to the voices outside. "Jughead…?" she stammered, coughing through her words. She put her ear up against the door. Footsteps clambered on the wooden porch out front and stopped in front of the door. "Jughead!" she cried a bit louder.

She heard a pop as something hit what she assumed to be a lock outside. The large door creaked and Betty took a jumpy step back.

* * *

Jughead shoved the door with his shoulder and it swung open, creaking on its rusty hinges. The four swarmed the inside of the cabin and gasped. "No…" Jughead let out a small whisper.

In the middle of the room on a wooden chair sat Chic, with his hands tied behind his back and a gaping bullet wound in his head. Around his neck hung a bloodied piece of parchment. Jughead stepped forward cautiously and raised the piece of paper to his eyes with a trembling hand:

"Made you look."

Archie yelled and kicked the still swinging door, running his hands through his unkempt hair. Veronica crouched down in the doorway, hugging her arms. Jughead ripped his beanie off his head and sank to the ground. FP shoved his gun back in its holster and bent down next to Jughead, wrapping him in a tight hug. He rested his chin on his son's head, his red eyes glowering at the body in front of him.

* * *

The cabin door swung open as Betty pushed herself up against the kitchen counter. A figure strolled casually through the doorway, jingling a ring of keys. Betty felt a lump catch in her throat. "No," she sputtered, "not you."

"Hello, Betty," Edgar soothingly cooed, a thin smile across his face. "So nice to see you again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh! What? The journey is only beginning for Betty and the gang.  
Hold on to your hope for Riverdale and our friends, because I think they might be losing it. 
> 
> Where’s Betty? What does Edgar want? Chic’s dead?!? 
> 
> Thank you so much to those who have been reading, commenting, and leaving kudos so far! Let me know what you think, and as always, leave a comment if you are enjoying the story so far! This might be the hardest I’ve ever worked on a story that isn’t a screenplay. 
> 
> More to come, much, much more to come.


	6. Forty Days in the Wilderness

_An abysmal veil of darkness had wrapped itself around Riverdale once more, the promise of hope diffusing into a fleeting fallacy. A foul beast once thought restrained had reared his ugly head, demanding a hunt. And the noble players had conceded, cooperating as pawns in the endless game the town was ensnared in. But it had turned out the beast was no more a pawn than we were, and all that we had gained from our frivolous chase was another dead body and another dead end. _

Jughead, Archie, and Veronica stared absently at the gray walls of the police station, each set of eyes red and raw. Archie was hunched over, nervously twisting his fingers together. Veronica sat still, black smudges sloppily smeared around her face. Jughead twisted his beanie between his blood-streaked hands, lost in his head.

** _FP pulled away from his son and shakily rose to his feet. "I have to call this in. Go outside. All of you, you don't need to look at this."_ **

** _Archie dragged himself outside with Veronica quickly following. Jughead remained on his knees, his eyes trained on nothing._ **

"**_Jug," FP said sternly, "Jughead, please leave."_**

** _Jughead moved his lips in an inaudible whisper. _ **

"**_What?" FP said, leaning down._**

"**_We lost her," Jughead said unevenly. "She's gone."_**

** _FP bit his lip and lifted his son to his feet. "No, we haven't lost her. We just… we just need to regroup." He walked Jughead over to the door of the cabin. "You three don't need to hang around here, but I have to call this in. Head to the station, okay? I'll meet you there." Jughead nodded and plodded down the steps toward his friends._ **

** _Archie and Veronica turned around as Jughead came up beside them. He was shaking, his nostrils flaring as he tried to hold back tears. "Jug…" Archie whispered, placing a hand on his shoulder._ **

"**_It was a trick," he mumbled, staring into the dying light above them. "All a trick. Chic was only a red herring - distracting us from something much more sinister. And now she's gone."_**

"**_We won't stop looking, Jug. We promise." Archie thundered, placing his other hand on Jughead's other shoulder. Veronica nodded, blinking through teary eyes. A blood-red sun was retreating behind the trees around them, casting long twisted shadows. Jughead stared down at them and felt as though he was looking into an echo of his clouded, aching mind. _**

A door slammed and FP rounded the corner, jerking Jughead out of his memory. Archie pulled himself up until he was standing in front of the sheriff. Veronica straightened up, delicately dabbing at her eyes with a grimy tissue.

FP let out a deep breath, "We sent Chic's body to the coroner. Hopefully, we can get an ID on the bullet since we got no fingerprints from Betty's car or phone." Archie leaned to one side and ran a hand through his hair. "A team is still sweeping the cabin for any further evidence, but for now, that's all there is." He glanced down at Jughead's hands. "What you kids need to do is go home and clean up. Breathe and be patient. I'll let you know what forensics finds."

Archie and Veronica nodded. FP looked down at Jughead, who was still sitting, wringing his beanie in his hands. "Jughead," he called, cocking his head toward his office door.

Jughead looked up and warily stood. Archie and Veronica watched him walk away with concerned eyes. Jughead looked back. "Archie, Veronica," he swallowed, "Thank you." The two friends nodded again and walked out of the police station into the night.

* * *

"Shouldn't we stay?" Archie asked Veronica, stepping outside into the cool air. A few officers walked back and forth between cars, the small chatter of muffled radio broadcasts echoing around them.

"No. FP's right, we need to give ourselves some space and clean up." She looked down at her filthy blouse and leggings. "I mean, look at us." She brushed some loose dirt from Archie's jacket. "We can't help anybody like this."

"But, Jughead," Archie swallowed, "did you see him on the way here? His eyes were… empty. Like he'd seen a ghost."

"Archie," Veronica looked up into his deep brown eyes. "We pretty much did." She shuddered, reaching up and feeling her forehead, a chilling image of a bloodied Chic flashing behind her eyes. "We have to rest a bit, regroup. None of us know where to go now."

Archie stared up at the buzzing orange lights of the police station. "I'm worried."

"I know, Archie," she said, pulling him away from the station and toward his truck. "I know."

* * *

Jughead sighed and walked into his father's office. FP was leaning over his desk, his white knuckles gripping the edges. He looked up as Jughead closed the door behind him.

"I had a feeling something like this was going to happen again," FP said, sinking into his desk chair. "I had a bad feeling Chic wasn't working alone."

Jughead sat across from FP, anger plastered across his face. "It was all a ruse, to distract us. Chic was scared of something and I think this was why."

FP nodded. "He kept saying he didn't know where Betty was when I questioned him in the bunker. Maybe he really didn't, maybe he was just making up stories."

"Or someone was giving him stories to tell. A scapegoat so we would be kept off the real trail."

"And then they made sure he couldn't tell us who," FP mused, crumpling up a stray piece of paper on his desk and tossing it toward the trash can. It bounced off the wall and tumbled to the floor. Jughead slammed his fists into his chair, making FP flinch. "Jughead! Boy!"

"What?" He rose, fervently pacing around the room. "Betty is _gone_. And it's our fault! We fell for the same trick that happened with Kurtz, and now she's gone! Betty might not even be in Riverdale for all we know, it's been a whole day!" He flung his beanie to the ground and stood with his hands on his hips, fuming in silence for a few moments. Then, in a smaller voice, "It doesn't make sense! Most of the clues mentioned things that were personal to Chic, only things he – and us – would know."

"Well, maybe that's where we start? Figure out who all knows those details. Make one of those murder boards-," Jughead shot him a piercing look, "sorry, uh, one of those crime boards you like making." He walked over beside his son. "I can ask Charles if he can spare any help-,"

"No!" Jughead whipped around towards his dad. "No! This is our case! We don't need his help. Besides-," he picked his beanie up and brushed it off, placing it back on top of his hair, "-he's a suspect as far as I'm concerned."

"Jug, come on." FP put his hands on his hips, gaping at his son. "Chic legitimately didn't know he was alive."

"That could just have been another one of his acts."

"Charles is an FBI agent for goodness sake!"

"While maybe you trust him, I still don't!" Jughead screamed. "Maybe he's been casing us this entire time, waiting for the perfect time to strike!"

"Jughead, listen to yourself! He's our family too!"

"Yeah? Well, we aren't exactly the family of the year! Here you are moonlighting as a sheriff, Charles could be doing just the same." Silence filled the room. FP frowned, crossing his arms and turning away from Jughead, whose face softened. "Dad, no… I didn't mean it, I'm sorry-,"

"Go home," FP said firmly. "Go home, clean yourself up, and calm down. Go be with your sister." He turned around, attempting to hide the fact his eyes were growing red. "That's all you can do right now."

Jughead swallowed and looked down, walking wordlessly out of the office. As he was closing the door, he kept it open just a hair and peered back. FP had sat back down in his chair with his head buried in his hands. Jughead frowned and quietly finished closing the door, leaning his back up against it as he did. He glanced around at the officers ambling around the station. All of them appeared so focused, yet so unaware. No one looked panicked or rushed. So untouched. Jughead sucked in a feeble breath and pushed open the glass doors, walking out of the police station and into the dark night.

_Meanwhile, the real monster, the shadowy cryptic, was circling the lost traveler in the woods, and we had been relegated to nothing more than senseless hunters following the wrong trail of breadcrumbs. No, all we were left to now was paranoid and sullen imaginings as to where, and to what kind of hell the girl next door was being imperiled to._

* * *

"So nice to see you again." Edgar smiled, stuffing the key ring into his pocket as he coolly sat down in the rocking chair. He carried a small silver medical kit with him.

Betty wrapped her hands tightly around the edges of the counter, her nails digging into the underside. She quickly attempted to straighten up, her face shifting into a scowl. "Where am I? Why am I here?"

Edgar rocked steadily back and forth, his blue eyes remaining intently on Betty. He gave a small wave of his hand. "All in due time," he tutted and motioned to her arm. "Why don't we fix that up?"

Betty grabbed her injured arm and stepped away from Edgar, anger flaring in her eyes. "I'm not letting you get anywhere near me! You're a butcher. You tried to kill me!"

Edgar smiled and folded his hands together. "I'm a changed man, Betty. I did things in such a primitive way then, but I've found an even deeper purpose now." He spoke in a slow rhythm, his tongue sliding over choice words, a slight lull in his tone. "Please, Betty, we don't want that to get infected." He rattled the medical kit. "It's just fresh bandages."

Betty's mind raced. He was right about the infection, but the last time Edgar had been involved with something medical, Betty had been strapped to a surgical table against her will. "I'll do it myself," she barked, reaching forward for the kit.

Edgar pulled it away and leaned back in his chair. "Still so untrusting."

"You're a charlatan!" Betty's eyes flashed. The gash on her arm throbbed and she squeezed her hand tighter around it. A few beads of sweat dripped down her forehead. "Does… does my mom know I'm here?" she found herself asking in a small voice, biting her lip.

Edgar rose from the rocking chair and stood over her. He shook his head once. "No, and I'm going to keep it that way. In fact, nobody knows you are here. I made sure of it." His blue eyes twinkled down at Betty, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Where is here?" Betty reiterated her earlier question as she slowly began slinking around Edgar toward the couch.

Edgar paced in a small circle, raising his arms. "This, Betty," he hummed, "this is your chrysalis. Your... in between. The place that decides who you become."

Her shoulders tensed and she shook her head. She did not like the sound of that.

Night had fully fallen outside and dark shadows fell across the room. Edgar rose slowly, pulling a matchbook from his pocket. Betty's eyes followed him as he grabbed two candlesticks from above the fridge and delicately lit each one, setting them on the kitchen counter. The orange flames cast sharp shadows across Edgar's face, his blue eyes becoming replaced by empty black holes. He turned those dark eyes towards Betty's arm, which she had pressed up against her side. "That doesn't look too good. Please, let me help you."

"Never," Betty spat.

His eyes slowly shifted back and forth, observing as he gently sat back down in the rocking chair. He crossed one leg over the other and gestured for Betty to sit. She remained where she stood, hovering over the couch. Edgar cocked his head and continued staring. Betty took a deep breath, rubbed her hands on her thighs, and gradually lowered herself onto the couch, coming eye level with Edgar.

"Did you know that in just about every belief system or mythos, there are principal tales of their heroes and saviors finding themselves at a crossroads, faced with temptations and trials? Many found themselves lost and alone, wandering into the entrancing depths of the inscrutable wild." Edgar folded his hands, resting his elbows on his lap. "And there they would truly figure out who they were, taking arrow after ruthless arrow, truly breathing in and out the scorching air of suffering." Betty glowered at him with one upturned eyebrow. "But it was all for a purpose – to make the life-altering choice of whether to give in and drown in their own mind, to be overtaken by madness - or to fight through, rising up from a hallowed battleground to be reborn."

A gust of wind swirled outside, sending the wood walls shaking and groaning. Betty clenched her fists as both of her arms stiffened upright, straightening her back.

"The most prominent of these stories follows the Son of Man as He walks into the wilderness to pray while the devil follows, continuously whispering temptations in His ear, trying to make Him flinch and doubt His own power." He flashed a fiendish grin at Betty, his eyes twinkling.

"But Jesus never gave in; He stayed in that barren wilderness for forty days, with only the noise of a demon and His own thoughts to keep Him company."

He blinked and uncrossed his legs to lean forward, the black holes never breaking contact with the girl across from him. "Do you understand me so far, Betty?"

She nodded, a heavy pit growing in her stomach. "I think so." A chill bristled down her back as a tree branch scraped its coarse fingers against the windowpane behind her.

He nodded, grinning. "Now, after sitting with you through your sessions, I think the devil's been following you, Betty, and so I brought you here," he raised his arms, their tall shadows towering over the room against the flicker of the candles, the orange flames twisting in some sort of spectral dance, "to your own wilderness, so you can finally face him." Edgar leaned back in his chair, "Just you, your demons, and your own mind."

"And you," Betty chided, leaning forward into the ghostly candlelight, "the devil."

He grinned and got up from the chair, "Betty, I have no intention of harming you," Edgar lulled, "I want you to… flourish. For your truest self to awaken." He wrapped his hands around the back of the rocking chair. "But, what you and I both know, is that the path to emergence is long and grueling. We have to walk through darkness in order to bask in the light. We have to find ourselves in the desert ready to die." He walked forward and knelt in front of Betty, who scrunched her eyes shut. "We need to be ripped open in order to see our true selves. And-," Betty could feel him move closer so she inched backward, shaking her head, "-whether that true self becomes a stronger, wiser person, or a dark and twisted shadow, that person," his voice a scathing whisper, "becomes our destiny."

Betty could feel her entire body begin to tremble as her head lolled, her brain feeling sleepy. _No. Snap out of it, Betty. He's trying to charm you again. _She pressed back into the rigid couch, opening her frenzied eyes. "You're crazy," she declared, the edge of her mouth twisting.

"No, Betty, I'm a prophet. I help lead people through the mystifying ether of this life, leading them away from the cold cave where they entertain themselves with the shadow puppets they create, not realizing there is a real, tangible world existing above them. We slink happily into the shadows, content with echoes of our true self." His blue eyes glinted strangely, a hint of madness forming in his troubling smile. The rocking chair groaned slowly behind him, matching rhythm with the ghoulish wind shaking the cabin.

Betty stiffened as Edgar bent forward, putting his mouth close to her ear. "And you tried to expose me. Now it's my turn to expose you. To yourself. And whichever persona you become - that's on you. I'm simply the guide, leading you to your fate."

Betty pushed him away, resolve flowing from the churning waters of her eyes, "My demons don't scare me, I know who I am. I've been facing my shadow self for the past two years. You can't use fancy philosophy to trick me into believing otherwise. I know the allegory of the cave just as well as you. Yes, we are meant to find more to this life, but not in the psychotic way you portray it." She swallowed, leaning forward. "And you, Mr. Evernever-," she rose, facing the foul man in front of her, "-you don't scare me, either."

Edgar stared at her, placing his hands behind his back. "Forty days and forty nights, Betty. Walk in the wilderness and wrestle. Give in to those places beyond your understanding and imagination."

Betty frowned, shaking her head. "My charge still stands - Jughead and his dad, they'll come for me before you can finish your twisted plan. My friends will come for me. You won't get away with anything."

A crooked grin reappeared on his face as he dug out the keys from his pocket. Grabbing one of the dripping candles, he headed toward the door. "I'll leave you alone for the night, see how you feel in the morning. Everything here is for you. A bed, running water – I want you to have some comforts during your stay." He flashed her one last smile and walked out the door, a few pops ringing out as he fastened the locks.

Betty stared after him, quivering, and listened as his footfalls faded away. _The creep is just trying to freak you out. You've seen his tactics before. He won't scare me. _She lowered herself back onto the couch, bunching her fists and digging them into the cushions. _No, he won't get to me. _

The wind moaned outside the cabin as Betty sat, thinking. The pain in her arm had subsided, but her head was still aching. She stared at the remaining candle as the light flickered, twirling across her vision. _Shake him out_. _Assess the situation. Take care of yourself. _

She trudged into the bathroom and flipped the light switch. "I have electricity, that's something," she murmured to herself, steadying her breathing. Betty stuck her arm under the sink faucet and turned one of the knobs. "And water," she sighed as the cold water rushed over her raw and bloody arm.

She stayed there for a few minutes, splashing water over her face and cupping some in her hands, bringing it to her mouth. The cool water soothed her dry throat. Walking out of the bathroom she scanned the bedroom that lay in front of her. There were two more windows, both sporting the same bars as the one in the front room. The bed had been made up and a folded blanket sat on the far end. The rest of the room was dreadfully bare - only drab brown wood paneling and a dusty dresser.

She walked back into the kitchen and opened the fridge. Nothing_. _Her stomach gurgled in response and Betty put one hand over it. She turned around and walked back into the bedroom, plopping down on the springy bed. _Okay, Betty, think. He just wants to freak you out, make you panic and think you're not safe without him. _She looked around the empty room, _You're going to get out of here. Just stick it out a little longer, see what you can get out of him. There's always a clue if you know where to look. _She winced and put a hand to her head. It was still heavy. "He sure knows how to twist words…" she muttered. She knew of the stories he had spoken of, and yes, they were about finding yourself and your power, but they were about not giving into the darkness. "I will not let him bully me again."

The wind continued to howl outside. Betty looked over at the bed she sat on, her eyes suddenly growing heavy. "Sleep," she said to herself. "Real sleep wouldn't hurt," she muttered as she fell back on the pillow, letting the darkness swallow her once more.

* * *

Jughead stared vacantly at the open street in front of the white house on Elm Street. A few skid marks and dark spots were still left on the street, scars from the days' earlier events. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes, his face red and raw. How had that only been earlier today? It felt like it had happened years ago. He stared over at the Andrews' house, quiet darkness staring back at him through the windows. He frowned and turned away. Jughead trudged into the house, slamming the red door behind him.

"Jughead!" JB called from the living room, "What happened?"

Jughead ignored his sister, climbing the stairs to his room, his steps hollow and faint. He walked blindly into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, letting the water run down the drain as he stared at the dried blood on his hands. Chic's blood. He held his hands out in front of him, palms raised, red searing into his mind. His hands began to shake and he plunged them into the stream and scrubbed fervently. He coughed, a sob rising in his throat. He coughed again, and this time sank to the floor, the faucet still running. He leaned against the wall and wept, hot tears flowing down his face.

* * *

Archie and Veronica sat in the front of Archie's parked truck outside of the Pembrooke, staring aimlessly out of the windshield in front of them.

"Well," Veronica piped up, "I guess this is goodnight, Archie." She fumbled with the door handle, cracking open the door.

"Wait," Archie said, turning toward her. He let out a small breath. "With everything going on… I don't think you should stay home alone tonight."

Veronica looked Archie up and down, a warm sensation flooding through her. "I-I don't want to be alone tonight. You don't want to be alone tonight, either, do you?"

Archie shook his head. "And I don't want to go back home. Too much has happened there today." He grimaced, a fresh stream of tears falling down his face.

"You can stay here," Veronica purred, "That way neither of us will be alone." She stepped out of the truck and walked around to the other side, letting Archie slip out of the driver's seat. She grabbed him by the hand and steered him gently into the empty lobby of the Pembrooke.

* * *

"Ahh!" Betty awoke, grasping at her arm. A fiery jolt had shot up her arm, rousing her out of an already uneasy slumber. Edgar's black eyes and heinous smile had been playing in her mind, his perverse words echoing through her skull. She squinted through the dark at her arm. It pulsed at her touch. Betty staggered off of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. She grappled with the sink and thrust her arm under the steady stream of cool water. She leaned her head on the rim of the sink, listening to the continual cascade of water in the darkness. After the pain had subsided, she reached up and flicked the light on, looking around. _Right, _she remembered, _creepy cabin. _Betty stared at her reflection in the mirror, grimacing at what stared back. Her forehead was beaded in sweat and her hair hung limply around her shoulders. The exposed veins in her eyes mixed disjointedly with the green, making her look like a crazed animal.

She hung her head, squeezing her eyes shut. Images of her friends flashed in her mind now - of them wild and panicked, running around trying to figure out what had happened. She saw Archie roaming the streets, asking anybody he came across if they'd seen his friend, and Veronica, dressed in an immaculate outfit standing right beside him, making calls only she knew how to make. And then there was Jughead, rugged determination in his eyes as he raced through the woods in a confident charge.

Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as panic overtook her. Would they know? Would they even suspect Edgar? How had he bypassed the FBI manhunt in Riverdale? Betty looked back up into the mirror. Her face now matched the veins in her eyes and the skin on her arm. She took in deep breaths, counting as she breathed in and out. "One," she breathed in and out, "Two," in and out, "Three." As she reached ten, she pulled a towel off the wall and washed her face, rubbing away the last of the dirt and grime hanging on her. Betty stepped back into the bedroom and rummaged through the dresser, finding a thin pillowcase in one of the drawers. She tugged at the stitches until it ripped, then she gingerly wrapped it around the gash on her arm and tied tight, pulling one end of the knot with her teeth.

She strode back into the bathroom and looked into the mirror. This time, Betty Cooper stared boldly back out at her, determination blazing in her bright green eyes.

* * *

"Jughead?" JB's small voice echoed around the dim bathroom as she appeared in the doorway, staring crestfallen at her brother sprawled on the floor. She sank down next to him, leaning up against the tiled wall and crossed her legs on the bathroom floor. "Jug, what happened after you left?"

He placed his hands in his lap, sniffling. "It's bad, JB. We don't know where Betty is and we just wasted a whole day chasing a ghost. And I got in a fight with dad." He wiped his nose on his sleeve. "And now I don't know what to do."

Jellybean frowned, "I'm sorry." She tugged her sleeves over her hands and shuffled them in her lap. "I know everyone's probably been telling you all day that everything will be okay, but it will be."

Jughead looked over at his sister, letting her optimistic smile fill his vision, "You're too young to be entrenched in all this madness. I hope you stay that way."

"Hey!" she teased, hitting his shoulder lightly, "I lived in a junkyard with mom. And now I've taken out _two _sleazeballs with a slingshot. I can handle anything."

Jughead managed a small smile, his face glistening with shed tears. "Yeah, a real Annie Oakley." He mimicked her, holding out his arms as if holding an imaginary slingshot. He stuck his tongue out and fired, miming getting hit in the head with a rock. Jellybean laughed; so did Jughead. "How do you do it?" he asked, "How have you kept so much positivity and strength through everything?"

"Well," JB said, resting her head on Jughead's shoulder, "for starters, I've got a strong big brother to look up to." She turned her head, smiling up at him.

Jughead's mouth twitched, a trembling smile crossing his lips. He patted a hand on Jellybean's knee and placed his arm around her shoulder, drawing her in for a hug. "Do you, now? Tell me more."

The dim murmur of flowing water rebounded through that little bathroom, as brother and sister sat talking into the night, the encroaching demons withdrawing into the shadows, if only for a little while.

_Maybe the story we were writing wasn't a heroic journey of strength and triumph as we had originally thought, but instead a cautionary tale - one of those twisted fairy tales warning children not to venture out into the forest and talk to strangers. Getting too close to, too deep, into the enchanting mysteries and curiosities of the woods only got you gobbled up by some allegorical monster. No one was safe - if not from the gnashing teeth - then from the inevitable despair that becomes instilled in one who has been living in fear for too long._

* * *

Flecks of golden sunlight danced across the pale, wooden wall. A few spots of light speckled over Betty's face. She slowly blinked awake, turning over on the rigid blue couch. She had gotten only a handful of hours of restless sleep, eventually giving up and lounging in the main room, waiting patiently for the inevitable arrival. A metal clinking turned her attention to the white front door, signaling that she hadn't woken a moment too soon.

"Good morning, Betty." Edgar strolled inside, locking the door behind him. "How did you sleep?"

"Just fine," she replied, feigning a smile. _Bite me._

"Good." He beamed back, eyes squinted. He glanced at the makeshift bandage on her arm. "Oh, that won't do." He held up the silver medical kit. "Are you ready for my help now?"

"Yes," she said, "Yes, I think I am." Betty sat up and held out her arm gingerly. He grinned and sat down on the rocking chair, pulling it closer to her. He unwrapped the soiled sheet and opened the kit, spraying disinfectant over a rag. Betty winced as he pressed the cloth a little too hard on the wound, but she quickly relaxed her face, staring up at Edgar's indecipherable blue eyes. He flashed a small smile back. If she wanted to survive, she knew she would have to play along with his disturbing game. But only for a little while, yes, only for a little while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that Edgar's just a really screwed up dude. But sometimes screwed up dudes are real fun – and alarming – to write. And don't worry, Betty's not going down easily; our girl's a fighter.
> 
> What’d you think? As always, please comment and let me know what you think and what you are enjoying! I love getting feedback. 
> 
> I'm slowly chugging away at Chapter 11, and hopefully will have it finished by the time I catch up and post Chapter 10 here! So hopefully there's not too long of a wait.


	7. Game of Shadows

_Almost a week had passed since Betty Cooper was officially declared missing. The case had been made public and now the whole town was aware that it was yet again in the throes of another mystery. Somehow though, Riverdale has a way of ignoring what is right in front of it, pretending as if life can go on just as normal. And so it does for most; students returned to school, parents to work, and the little town went about business as usual, just with added water cooler fodder. _

_Teenage populations, however, always seem more privy and acutely aware of the macabre and malignant goings-on than the supposed more mindful adult generation, and small-town gossip has a way of feeling more menacing and far-reaching than it should. I - as the poor recluse with the missing girlfriend - was now resigned to face an onslaught of shady whisperings. As unbearable as the sudden feigned interest was, what was even worse was that along with the half-hearted condolences also came rumors and theories surrounding Betty. High school forever remains the same, town tragedies making it that much more insufferable. _

"Jughead, we are so sorry about what's happened! We can't imagine how you are getting through this." Two lanky girls in Vixen uniforms leaned up against the lockers as Jughead pulled out some of his books. They looked up at him with dopey eyes and exaggerated frowns.

"Thanks two girls I've never seen nor met before," Jughead quipped back, shutting his locker. The girls continued to stare at him, hugging their piles of folders and books tight to their chests. Jughead flicked his eyes back and forth between the two of them, his hands twisting the strap on his over-the-shoulder bag. "You can go now."

The two girls glanced at each other then walked briskly past him. He sighed and walked down the hall. Other students ambled about, some casting side glances at him as he passed while others veered out of his path completely. Jughead looked down at the floor and away from the prying eyes of the attention-givers he despised. He was receiving the same kind of unwanted notice he had gotten when FP had been arrested, but this time the artificial sympathy produced an additional sour taste in his mouth. Jughead swung into the student lounge and noticed a glint of red out of the corner of his eye. He looked up, hoping to find Archie, but instead came face to face with an anxious Cheryl Blossom.

"Jughead," Cheryl said with crossed arms and a concerned look on her face, "we need to talk."

Jughead lowered himself onto one of the worn-out couches as Cheryl quickly sat down in an armchair. She crossed her legs and folded her hands on top of her knee. "What is it, Cheryl?" he asked warily.

Cheryl scoffed, "No need to be so uptight with me, Jughead. I'm not one of those puppy-eyed bimbos, I have a real investment in the matter at hand." She looked Jughead up and down. "And believe it or not, you are not the only one who has the right to brood. Betty is family."

Jughead stuck his tongue into the inside of his cheek and looked away. He crossed his arms and turned back, his eyes slightly glistening as Cheryl continued, "I heard about your wild goose chase and I'm sorry you had to go through that." Jughead analyzed her face, looking for some indication of mockery, but he found none. "You and I both know that this wasn't just some random kidnapping. And I want to help you with whatever investigation you are putting together." She furrowed her brow, looking intently at Jughead, who only stared blankly back. "You are doing some sort of investigation, right?"

Jughead nodded, shaking himself out of his lull. As soon as Cheryl had mentioned Betty's name, an assault of visions had come crashing against his skull. "Yes, of course. I'm just… I'm just working on my next move."

Cheryl nodded. "Toni and I, and all of the Poisons, are available to help. In times of need, we'll join our Serpent brothers-in-arms. Show them how to really fight."

Jughead rolled his eyes but gave a small nod. "Thank you, Cheryl. But for now, I think I need to do this on my own. The police don't have any leads right now, and I want to keep my investigation small."

Cheryl pouted her lip and gave a deep sigh. She flashed Jughead a grimace, "I thought you would appreciate the offer, but apparently your tragic fretting only makes you even more ostentatious." At that moment, Archie rounded the corner into the lounge. Cheryl gave him a sideways glance. "Oh good, back me up, Archie."

"On what?" he asked, dropping onto the edge of the couch next to Jughead.

"Jughead here seems to think that he's the only one allowed to search for Betty." Cheryl cast a brazen glance at Archie.

He looked between Cheryl and Jughead, the latter staring hotly up at him. "Uhh… well, right now, none of us are really doing any searching. We kind of hit a dead end." Jughead elbowed him in the knee. "Ouch! Uh, I mean, we're letting the police handle it for now. But we're not giving up."

Cheryl looked between the two boys. "Fine. Continue to be the Labrador that you are, Andrews, but I am _not _going to be left in the dark. I mean, if nothing else, can we at least do something to quash those spiteful rumors floating around? And no, I did not start them."

Archie perked his head up. "What rumors? Are they about Betty?"

A guttural growl emanated from Jughead, "Don't even bring those up." His voice was low and his face was growing red.

Cheryl leaned towards Archie and whispered, "People are saying that she finally snapped, that she ran off and locked herself up in some looney bin."

"What?" Archie fumed, his chest beginning to rise sharply. "That's outrageous!"

"Is it?" A voice piped up, "We all know crazy runs in the Cooper family."

Archie, Cheryl, and Jughead twisted their heads around. In the opposite corner of the lounge, leaning against one of the vending machines was Kevin, staring indignantly at them. "I mean, how do we know she didn't run off just to draw attention to herself? She likes doing that."

Jughead rose slowly from the couch, turning his body in Kevin's direction. His eyes narrowed and he started to furl his fingers. "How dare you say that. She didn't fake anything!"

Archie stood quickly, taking a step away from Jughead, and glared at Kevin. Cheryl remained in her chair, but she arched her body forward, leaning into the friction. A few other students began turning their heads and whispering in hushed tones.

Kevin straightened up and took a step forward. "Maybe, but at least now we get a little peace and quiet from Miss Fix-it."

"Kev! Come on, man," Archie pleaded, eyeing Jughead's shaking frame.

Kevin folded his hands behind his back and haughtily jutted his chin. "She meddles everywhere she shouldn't, and look where that's gotten her. If I'm being honest, this was only a matter of time."

Everyone in the room seemed to hold in a collective breath; the air was still and all eyes were turned on Kevin and the trio. Bodies stood frozen and eyes gaped wide. And then Jughead lunged.

"You used to be her friend!" he screamed, wrapping his arms around Kevin's torso and shoving him backward. Jughead's eyes were crazed and watery. "She believed in you!" He and Kevin crumpled to the floor.

Cheryl rose, her golden spider brooch swinging threateningly as she sprang towards the boys. Archie ducked, avoiding a jab meant for Jughead. The other students in the room gasped, pressing themselves up against the wall, with a few pulling out their phones and chanting, "Fight!"

Archie dove into the fray, pulling Jughead up from the heap on the floor and restrained his arms, fighting against the still-bucking Serpent. Cheryl pushed herself in between the two of them and Kevin, glaring intensely. Kevin lifted a hand to his nose, a small trickle of blood smearing on the back of his hand.

"Knock it off! Both of you. As much as I love a little chaos, this is no time for in-quarreling!" Cheryl shooed away the remaining onlookers. "Kevin, you should be ashamed! Stop pretending like you're above everyone, because news flash, you're not! You're just taking your pain out on everyone!"

"I'm not in pain, Cheryl. You're just in denial along with everyone else that I can see what no one else can."

"Denial?" Jughead barked, feeling Archie slacken his grip on his arms. "What a bunch of shit! A tragedy happened to someone who was your friend and you don't even care!"

Kevin's eyes glittered and Jughead thought he saw his face droop for a split second. Kevin shook out his sleeves and picked up his bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He took one last look at everyone in the room and trod out of the lounge into the sea of students in the hallway with a placated huff. Veronica had to swerve to avoid a collision as she gingerly stepped into the lounge. She stopped and surveyed the scene before her. Jughead could only imagine he looked disheveled, and he could feel his beanie hanging loosely off his head. Archie was hovering in front of him, whispering something inaudible.

"What on earth happened here?" Veronica demanded.

"Kevin's being an ass," Jughead spat.

"They got in a fight," Archie interjected, walking back over to the couch. Veronica joined him. "People have been saying some nasty things about Betty, and Kevin seems to be goading it."

"Well, we'll just have to do something about that," Veronica contended, offhandedly smoothing Archie's shirt and grabbing his hand. Jughead darted his eyes and scooped up his bag from the floor. He adjusted his hat back overtop his tousled hair.

"We'll do something, Jug. Just try ignoring them for now," Archie chimed, dropping Veronica's hand. He stared at his friend. Jughead sensed that his eyes still looked erratic. "Hey, I'm headed back to the community center after school today, why don't you join me? You haven't seen it yet."

"No thanks, Archie. Maybe you can go back to normal life, but I can't. Not while she's still out there." Jughead began trudging towards the door but turned back. With that, he disappeared into the mindless hoard of students milling about in the hallway.

xxx

Archie and Veronica glanced at each other, concern bubbling in each of their eyes.

"Ahem." A voice broke them out of their trance; Cheryl was still standing in the lounge, arms crossed. "Jughead may want to play the loner act, but don't let him." Her eyes softened. "And please, let me know if anything new pops up."

They nodded and Cheryl too slipped out of the lounge. Archie looked at Veronica and sighed. "What now?"

Veronica placed a hand on Archie's knee. "You go back to the community center, and I go visit my father."

* * *

_Scritcha scritcha chkk chkkk. _The jagged piece of wood scraped away at the small straight groove on the wall. It was the newest addition in a set of identical lines etched into the paneling, joining five other straight lines and one diagonal rut. Betty pulled the makeshift wood pick away from the wall and blew a bit of shaving out of the freshly dug furrow. She leaned back on the bed and ran her fingers over the tally marks, letting out a disgruntled grumble.

For the past week, she had meticulously inspected every inch of the cabin, noting anything that may present itself as useful in an escape or attack. Her toolkit was scarce - one loose floorboard in the front room, which she had already repositioned the couch over to conceal, the matchbook Edgar had left the first night, and a chipped piece of the bedroom dresser. In so far, these things only offered her fleeting hope for a plan that only existed as a vague and discombobulated idea in her head. She looked down at the small wood chip in her hand, a mere symbol of her perpetuating frustration and fragmenting patience.

Betty groaned and stood up, tossing the splinter onto the small, black nightstand as she ambled into the kitchen. A few dirtied plates lay strewn across the kitchen counter. Every two days or so, a plate of food and a glass of water appeared; the only substantial evidence that Edgar was still observing, flitting in the shadows like some sort of watcher in the woods, as he hadn't come back since the first morning. Betty shivered, sinking onto the couch. She wrapped a thin blanket around herself, listening to the soft pitter-patter of raindrops crash against the cross-barred window.

_Chink. _Betty whipped her head around as metal clanked and rattled, and the pale wooden door swung open. Edgar shook out a large black umbrella, sending a spray of rain droplets splattering around the room. He sauntered past the couch and stood beside the kitchen counter.

Betty followed Edgar's movements, steadying her shaky breaths. When he stopped she looked down and swallowed. "What are those for?" she questioned, eyeing a folded black cloth and silver needle nestled in the hand Edgar held behind his back.

"I see you've been eating all your food," Edgar remarked, ignoring her question. "That's good, you need to keep up your strength." He walked over to the edge of the couch and sat on the armrest. "How about your arm? I bet it's almost healed."

Betty looked down and realized a corner of her blanket had slipped, revealing a portion of the white bandage covering her forearm. She flipped the blanket back over her arm and scooted a few inches back. "It's doing really well, thank you. Another day or two and it will only be a scar."

Edgar smiled. "See? You're already experiencing renewal, and we're only a few days in." Betty glared at him as he slid onto the couch beside her. "Scars mean you survived - they mean you conquered." He placed the contents from his hands on his lap, unraveling the black cloth. Betty's eyes flicked between Edgars' face and the items in his lap. Her blood chilled as she realized what it was - a burlap hood.

"Are we going somewhere?" she stammered, an alarm sounding in her mind.

He grinned and raised the needle to his face, flicking it twice. "Oh, just on a little trip."

Betty scrunched up her face. She did not like the sound of that, nor did she like the needle Edgar had poised in the air. She reached up and instinctively rubbed her neck, a small shudder running down her back as the recollection of the sharp sting prickled under her fingers.

"Don't worry, as long as you cooperate I only have to stick this in your arm this time." He reached forward and began to pull the blanket away from Betty's shoulder. She flinched, slapping his hand away. "Now, now, Betty, the disorientation is all part of the process."

Betty closed her eyes and pulled in a breath. _I don't have much of a choice. _She lowered the blanket from her arm and a firm hand gripped her shoulder. She opened her eyes and stared directly at Edgar as the icy needle slid into her arm. The soft din of the rainfall lingered in her ears, and Edgar's chilling blue gaze danced in the corner of her eyes as her vision slowly ebbed away.

* * *

Warm lamplight bathed cobalt steel walls, spilling over onto the green shrubberies scattered around the prison visiting area. Veronica looked over the room in disdain as a far door was buzzed open. Her father strolled leisurely through with a conniving grin on his face. If he had been wearing a properly tailored three-piece suit instead of a shapeless jumpsuit, he would have been haughtily buttoning the midriff.

Hiram slid coolly onto the seat across from Veronica, never dropping his smug smirk. "I knew you would find your way here sooner or later." He raised his arms and motioned around the room. "What do you think? I wanted my inmates to still have a sense of home when visiting with their loved ones."

Veronica sat with crossed arms and a drawn scowl. "Like you know anything about creating a sense of home."

Hiram shook his head and placed his clasped hands on the cold tabletop. "Ah, Veronica, and how would you know anything about a 'real' home when the only one you've ever known is mine?" Veronica's eyes widened for a split second, then, just as quickly as she let slip, the sudden hesitation was replaced with an even more potent fervor. Hiram gave a silent chuckle. "So, what finally brings you here?"

Nauseatingly happy elevator music played indistinctly in the background as Veronica began, "As you probably well know, a prisoner escaped early last week, from _your _prison, of which I know you've poured thousands of dollars into for security."

Hiram gave a slight nod. "Yes, I am aware. That Chic fellow, very… unnerving, very gangly. But that was just a fluke. The security team here has been diligently cracking down on all disturbances within the prison and they also have been implementing new safety protocols. And I'm sure he'll be back behind bars in no time." Veronica raised an eyebrow. Hiram frowned. "What?"

"Don't you get updates on the outside world?" Veronica chimed, staring disbelievingly at her father.

"Of course. Just because I'm in prison doesn't mean I'm going to lose all touch with reality."

"Well, Daddy," Veronica jeered, "Reality check. Chic was found murdered last Saturday." A cheerful jazz note drifted over Veronica's words.

Hiram paused and Veronica tried to read his face. His expression fell somewhere in between fluster and discontent, but she couldn't quite tell which way it leaned more. His eyes quickly darted back and forth, then softened and rested back on Veronica. "How dreadful. Do you know how it happened?"

Veronica shifted in her metal seat, smoothing out her dress. "As a matter of fact, I do." Hiram lifted his chin in anticipation as Veronica locked eye contact with him. "He was shot in the head. I saw the body, and only because Chic sent us on a deranged scavenger hunt to find Betty." She stared doggedly at Hiram, who's mouth hung slightly agape. He stayed silent. "And I find it… unnerving-," Veronica leaned forward, letting out a deep breath and placing her clasped hands on the tabletop, "-that the only inmate in this prison that has ties to my friends and I escapes at the exact same time my best friend goes missing."

Hiram rocked back in his seat, his eyes indistinct. He swallowed, "Veronica, I had no idea. Truly, I'm very sorry about Betty, that's terrible. But-," he rolled his shoulders and sat upright, "-as your accusatory tone seems to be insinuating, I have nothing to do with this. I wish no such harm to you and your friends."

Veronica scoffed, "You've tried to have both Archie and Jughead killed! I know you're after me, but don't you dare go after my friends." Her eyes were shining. "Or there will be another reckoning. And-," she gestured around the room, "-the first one didn't turn out so well for you."

Hiram gave a small side smile. "I assure you, I had nothing to do with this, Veronica." He rose from the table and adjusted his collar. "Now, I do believe our time is up. Thank you for visiting. I wish it had been under better circumstances." He walked over to the large metal door, pausing to whisper something to one of the guards.

"By the way," Hiram spun on his heels, looking back at Veronica. "I heard Archie opened up his community center. Send him warm regards for me, won't you?" He turned and disappeared on the other side, leaving Veronica alone at the cold metal table with a straight face and a churning mind, the swell of a peppy chorus buzzing gallingly in her ears.

* * *

"Thanks for meeting me, Charles," FP expressed, offering the FBI agent a cup of coffee. Charles accepted and took a seat on one of the bar stools surrounding the island in the Jones' kitchen. FP poured himself a cup and sat down across from him.

"It's no problem, FP," replied Charles, taking a sip. "It's honestly nice to have a meeting that isn't confined to the station. It's a bit stuffy in there." He cracked a smile.

FP chuckled. "You got that right." He leaned back, running one hand through his greased hair while shaking out his flannel shirt with the other. The two men each took a swig of their coffee and let their mugs drop on the counter.

"So, what's on your mind?"

"Charles, I-," both Charles and FP spoke at the same time. FP shut his mouth but Charles waved a hand at him.

"No, go ahead."

FP thumbed at the handle on his mug. "Charles, uhh… I know this has been weird for the both of us, learning that we're family and all-," he flapped a hand toward Charles, "and I was never good at being a father when I knew I had children." FP sniffled slightly and wiped his nose. "So, I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry. For giving you the cold shoulder."

Charles nodded a slow nod and wrapped his hands around his mug. He opened his mouth, "FP, I'm not upset. Not anymore. I was so… mad and confused growing up. I drowned out that pain through an addiction, which, I've heard you can relate to." FP nodded, staring down into his drink. "I had nobody to look up to, no direction." Charles sighed, "But what _I'm_ trying to say is, I forgive you. All that is in the past."

FP's mouth twitched as his eyes rose slowly towards his son. Charles' eyes were red, but he was giving FP a sympathetic smile. "Thanks, boy. But I'm not sure how much of a father I can be to you now, I mean, you're already practically grown. You're in the FBI for crying out loud!" He chuckled again, but his smile faded. "And I'm just the sheriff of the town I never left."

"And who says that's not someone I can learn from? Breaking free from a troubled past and making something of yourself? We have more in common than you think. Don't sell yourself short." Charles leaned back on his stool.

FP managed a grin. "Just don't start calling me dad. I don't think I could handle that."

Charles nodded, "FP it is." He downed the last swallow of his coffee.

"Now what did you want to talk to me about?" FP probed.

Charles walked over to the coffee pot and began pouring himself another cup. "It's about what you asked me earlier this week. About Betty's case." His eyes softened as he sat back down.

"Yes? Are you able to lend our station some help?

Charles sighed. "Unfortunately, no. All FBI personnel in Riverdale are strictly Farm detail only. Everything I've already done is all I can do." FP slumped back in his chair and Charles quickly piped back up, "But, that doesn't mean if anyone comes across any information pertinent to Betty that I won't share it. I mean, she's my sister. This shouldn't have happened. Not under my watch."

"Not under _our_ watch," FP corrected him. "We're all pretty messed up about it, Jughead especially. He hasn't been thinking straight since it happened," FP lamented. "We probably shouldn't tell him that I asked you for help because I have to warn you, he even has this craz-,"

The two men fell silent as the lock to the front door clicked and Jughead skulked into the house, throwing his bag carelessly to the floor. He collapsed onto the couch and put his head into his hands.

"Rough day?" FP called, rising from the island.

"The school's been nothing but a hotbed of callous rumors and insincere consolations. But today somehow sucked even more than usual." Jughead dropped his hands and looked up, suddenly noticing the second man seated in his kitchen. "Uhh…"

"Hello, Jughead," Charles spoke up. "Your dad and I were just talking about our cases. I'm so sorry about everything that's been going on."

Jughead dropped his eyes, his cheeks growing red. "Uh, thanks."

Charles looked over at FP, who shrugged his shoulders. "I should get going." He picked up his jacket and walked over to the door. "Oh, Jughead," Charles remembered, "I know things have gotten out of sorts, but my offer to inspect the old Sisters of Quiet Mercy still stands. Tomorrow morning. 9 am."

Jughead stared up at his dad; FP shot him an upturned eyebrow and inquisitive look. FP watched Jughead look between him and Charles for a few moments. Jughead then let a wry smile curl at the edge of his lips as his gaze settled on his father. FP furrowed his brow and shook his head quickly. That smile was not good. "Yes, Charles. I think I'll come."

"Excellent. I appreciate the help." Charles turned and walked out the door. Jughead stood up and headed for the staircase. FP grabbed his shoulder as he reached the first step.

"Jug…"

"Dad, don't worry." Jughead's smile expanded. "Betty asked me to spend time with him. That's what I'm doing." The teen trotted up the staircase, leaving FP standing at the bottom with one hand on his hip, the other massaging his temple in exasperation.

* * *

Archie pushed open the double doors to the front of the community center, drinking in the vibrant air. He smiled. Children and teens raced around the foyer, laughing and shouting after each other. A group of students lounged on bean bag chairs and new sofas in the next room over, their noses buried in their notebooks or computers. Archie rounded the corner into the main gym and tossed his bag into the office. Mad Dog was in the ring, showing a younger dark-skinned boy a series of uppercuts. His eye caught Archie's.

"Hey, we'll take five," Mad Dog said, pulling off his gloves and patting the boy on his shoulder. He jogged over to the edge of the boxing ring as Archie leaned up against the ropes. "Red! About time you got back here."

"Sorry, Mad Dog, it's been a rough week. Thanks for understanding though." He glanced around the room, at the gleaming smiles and shimmering eyes catching in the corner of his eyes. "This place is so lively! It's great. At least something is going right."

He pulled himself up into the ring and sat on the edge, slinging his arms over the lowest rope. Mad Dog dropped beside him. "Yeah, I heard about everything. I'm so sorry, man. That's messed up."

"Everyone's always just sorry," Archie fussed, "I just feel so helpless."

"Hey," Mad Dog grinned, clapping Archie on the back. "You helped me and the others get out of jail. I'm sure you can figure something out." He hopped up and lowered a hand down to Archie. "For now, let me introduce you to someone." Archie grabbed Mad Dog's arm and hauled himself up fully into the ring. The young man Mad Dog had been sparring with earlier walked over. Mad Dog wrapped the kid in a side hug. "Red, this is my little brother, Elliot."

Archie held out a hand and shook Elliot's hand. "Nice to meet you. You've got a great big brother. He teaching you how to fight?"

Elliot nodded and smirked. "More like I'm teaching him!" He gave his brother a small jab in the side. Mad Dog scoffed and Archie laughed.

"He's been coming with me most of the week. He really enjoys having a place to hang out that isn't the school."

Archie nodded. "Good. That's what this place is all about. Glad you like it. Anything we can do better?"

Elliot leaned to one side, thinking. "Hmm, how about an ice cream bar?"

Archie couldn't help but chuckle. "Ha, we'll think about it."

Mad Dog shoved his brother. "Alright, alright. Let's get back to it." He looked up at Archie. "It's really starting to take shape here. We have a lot of people asking if they can volunteer. We better have some sort of management meeting soon." Archie nodded. Mad Dog put a hand over Elliot's shoulder and began to steer him towards a far corner of the ring. He turned his head and shouted back at Archie. "Looks like you got a visitor, Red."

Archie glanced over his shoulder. Veronica was standing in the doorframe of the gym office. When she noticed Archie looking at her, she cocked her head towards the room and strode inside.

xxx

Veronica sat with her legs crossed on one of the desk chairs. The door closed with a piercing _click_ as Archie shut the door behind him. He plopped himself down on the new black suede sofa across from her. "What's up, Ronnie?"

"I spoke with my father."

Archie's face dropped and Veronica could practically hear his heart rate increase. "Is he responsible for the brick and graffiti?"

Veronica laced her hands over her knee. "To be honest, that wasn't my top priority, but he did make one ominous crack at you toward the end of the conversation. He knew the center had opened, but I'm not quite sure it meant that he's guilty."

Archie laid his arm on the armrest and clenched his fist. "Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure," Veronica retorted. "But he's still playing at something." She crossed her arms and whistled between her teeth. "I asked him about Chic." The redhead perked up, his eyes trained on Veronica's. She swallowed and continued, "He had no idea about Betty, that I know for sure. He actually let some vulnerability slip out when I mentioned it. But he didn't seem at all worried that Chic had escaped from his prided security. And he was genuinely shocked hearing he was dead."

Archie placed his chin in his folded hands, shaking his head. "So… what? You think somehow he _let _Chic escape?"

"His plan isn't clear – damn him and his poker face - but he was way too calm about the whole thing. Maybe he needed a con man in his pocket on the outside, one he could blackmail."

"Ugh, it's so frustrating!" Archie rumbled, running his hands through his scruffy hair. "There has to be something we're not thinking of."

Veronica looked down and uncrossed her legs, letting her heels drag on the floor. She knew they weren't thinking about a lot of things, but she wasn't sure how much energy she could devote to solving their mystery – or rather mysteries. She had no idea how Jughead and Betty could do this day in and day out.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes. Archie stared out the picture window into the gym. Kids were still running around, parents trying to catch up. Mad Dog and Elliot had receded to one of the benches lining the wall.

Veronica shifted in her seat and broke the silence, her voice gentle, "Archie?" He turned back towards her. "Can we talk about the other night?"

He leaned forward and grabbed one of Veronica's hands and held it between his. "Of course."

A faint smile crossed the girl's face. She could feel her cheeks growing hot and guessed they were turning a shade close to that of Archie's hair. "We had such a sweet night, but ever since then, you've seemed distant. I mean, just this morning you dropped my hand, but here you are, holding me tenderly now."

Archie rubbed his thumb in circles on the back of Veronica's hand. "It's Jughead; he's been so erratic lately. He can't get his mind off of Betty and I'm just a little afraid that if he sees we're back together, he might go off the deep end."

Veronica gently placed her other hand over Archie's. "Oh, Archiekins, that's so sweet." She transferred to a spot on the couch next to him. "But do we really need to hide it from him?"

Archie sighed, "For now, I think we do. See, when Jughead's really upset he tends to just get angry when he sees other people happy. He thinks that's a sign that they've stopped caring, and if Jug sees us together, all he'll see is us moving on from Betty."

"Oh," Veronica whispered. She leaned back against the couch and stared forward.

"Yeah, it's a strange part of his lone wolf act. I haven't noticed him outgrow it yet."

She huffed, dropping Archie's hand to rub his back. An idea suddenly shot into her head and Veronica popped up from the couch. "What if we show Jughead that people can both still be happy while also still very much be caring about Betty?"

Archie raised an eyebrow. "What do you have in mind?"

Veronica could sense a spirited grin spreading across her face. "A rally! We organize a rally for Betty's case to make sure everyone in the town can't forget about her! Not only will Jughead see that we care, but it lifts some of the weight from his shoulders." She began excitedly pacing around the room. "It would only take a few days to organize. Maybe this is the unification we need, and maybe the tension at school will even diffuse if they all remember what we really should be fighting for."

Archie contemplated her idea for a few seconds. "I think Jughead might like that. He needs pulled out of all his brooding." Veronica's heart pumped as he stood and joined her in the middle of the room.

Veronica nodded, "Exactly. And if we can get all of Riverdale on high alert, we may just be able to bring our girl home."

Archie grabbed Veronica's hands and swung them absent-mindedly at his side. "This is why I love you." He leaned in, pulling Veronica close to his chest, and kissed her.

* * *

The muffled hum of crickets and cicadas buzzed in the chilly, black night. At least she assumed it was night. The world was dark and musty, and each of her shallow, hot breaths stuck close to her face. A small jolt of panic rose in her mind until Betty suddenly remembered there was a bag over her head. She groaned, stretching her legs, her jeans adding an extra hindrance to her already stiff muscles. She was sitting on the ground, her back up against something hard and prickly. Her arms felt heavy as she attempted to raise them to her head. They rose together awkwardly and Betty tried pulling them apart, but grunted, coming to the discomforting conclusion that they were tied.

"Oh good, you're awake," crooned a muted, yet all too familiar voice. A hand gripped under her armpit and pulled her clumsily to her feet. She could feel another hand over her head as the hood was ripped away. Betty blinked, trying to adjust from one unclear blackness to the next. As her eyes began to adjust, the dark splotches and shadows around her began taking shape. She had been sitting against a large tree trunk, the top cleanly cut and smooth. A kerosene lantern sat on the stump, casting a strange glow on the trees encircling the small grove Betty stood in. Edgar was standing next to one of the trees, his hands behind his back. His figure was half-bathed in the orange light radiating from another lantern hanging from a nearby branch.

Betty looked up at the tops of the trees that rustled gently below a clear night sky. Clusters of stars were speckled across the indigo tapestry above. A chorus of cicadas and crickets floated through the air, an owl joining in with a raucous hoot. She was not sure whether to attribute the peculiar sensation she was presently experiencing to the still-lingering drugs in her system, or to her acute awareness of the harmonious swirl of ethereal sensory around her, but Betty felt as though she were standing in a dream.

"Do you know where we are, Betty?" Edgar asked, his face split ghastly in the gaslight and shadow.

Betty shivered; though the lanterns provided a pale emanation of heat within the clearing, she hadn't been wearing her jacket when Edgar appeared, leaving her standing now in the cold air with only a short-sleeved shirt. The breeze tugged at her skin, adding to the frightening chill that was already running cold down her back. She took one last inspection of the clearing, her eyes landing on the tree stump in front of her before offering her answer.

"Thornhill."

Edgar smiled and nodded, stepping forward fully into the glow from the lanterns. "This spot particularly is the culmination of many sufferings, ideologies, and revelations. A proving ground for choice and character. Built for you."

Betty could feel the panic rising in her chest. She stared at the ground, attempting to hide any trace of fear from her face. She could still see that night - feel it - in her mind. Her fingers wrapped around the cold trigger of a gun, her father's eyes - somehow both hollow and full of desperation - locked on hers, a piercing gunshot, and finally, the echo of her own anguished wail.

"What a remarkable place. It holds the echoes of a painful choice, an already forged battle in the darkness," Edgar mused. "In this place, you were able to momentarily see through the noise and haze of your own mind and pick a clear path." He walked slowly towards Betty, running a hand over the smooth top of the tree stump. "And now you have the unique chance to face this demon on a different level."

Betty cringed as Edgar came behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. He leaned into her ear, speaking in his hushed, rhythmic tone. "You see, most people believe that once we experience something, it's over. But that's not true, that experience just transforms into another form – the memory. And the memory is far more potent than the experience because it is no longer bound by the tangible. But people turn a blind eye toward memories; they lock them up, never confronting those fears, pain, and despairs. But once you wrestle with your own mind and break free? Well, that's ascendance."

He pulled away and stepped back in front of Betty. He stared into the shimmering trees and flickering light, his eyes focused somewhere in the heart of darkness that circled them. "This is your first crossroads of this journey, Betty. A place where the material and the mystic meet, the first temptation."

Betty curled her lip in disgust. Her heart thumped in her chest as she sputtered, "Once again, you call this help, but all it is, is philosophically-veiled torture."

"Torture? That's what you would call this? Ah, that means I'm right - this place still has power over you. Which part haunts you the most, hm?" Edgar gestured, looking around the clearing. "Is it standing face to face with your murderous father as he pointed a gun at you and your friends? Perhaps the pressure of potentially holding all of your friends' fates in your hands, knowing that you and another were already dying? Or-," Edgar paced in a small circle around the stump, ending with his back turned to Betty, "was it watching your father, despite the heartless monster he was, be killed right in front of your eyes?"

Betty tried twisting her hands, but the ropes were drawn taut. They dug into her skin as painfully as Edgar's words did in her mind. She was already having nightmares of that night, but now being back in the exact spot summoned something entirely different – an almost spectral vision; ghostly shapes of her father, her friends, and even herself seemed to float in front of her. Betty squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stabilize her breathing. Then, amongst all the chaos that had unwillingly been stirred up in her mind, a thought occurred.

"Wait, how do you know all of this? Most of that was never released to the public," Betty questioned, a steely look returning to her eyes.

"Because someone told him."

A honeyed voice rang out from the darkness. "Besides, a man would never be able to execute such an extravagant scheme all by himself," Penelope crooned, materializing out of the shadows and placing herself next to Edgar, her long black dress whipping around her figure.

Betty screwed up her face, gaping at the now two adversaries before her.

"It's true," Edgar confessed, "Penelope and I might not see eye to eye on everything, but I needed information and access. And we both have… similar interests."

"He's also a caitiff and needed someone to deal with the more… unsightly details. Loose ends and all that." Penelope casually waved her hand.

Betty gulped, her eyes widening. _Loose ends?_ _Who was she referring to?_

"When you dastardly four somehow thwarted my masterpiece of a hunt, I knew vengeance was calling me. Edgar found me in my own wilderness and pointed me to a - I will admit, more toned down than I'd like – but just as delicious plan."

"Wonderful, I get Lucifer _and _Lilith…" Betty muttered under her breath, snorting at Penelope's declaration.

"What was that?" Penelope chimed, staring spitefully at Betty.

"If you want revenge on all four of us, then why single me out? Why am I the only one here?"

Penelope folded her hands and smiled. "Oh Betty, while I thought killing you would bring me the retribution I've been searching for, I've now come to the conclusion that watching you and your friends destroy yourselves is so much more pleasing." She chuckled a troubling laugh and walked over to Betty. "So when Edgar told me of his plans to pluck you away, I knew I had to join in on the fun. It's much more satisfying watching those pests you call friends squirm and self-destruct, all because the knot that tied them together was taken away."

Penelope leaned close to Betty until their faces were uncomfortably close. "And don't you remember little girl?" she breathed into Betty's ear, "I told you - you made a big mistake all those years ago, barging into my house, taking what wasn't yours to take. I have a long memory and a lot of patience."

She pulled away from Betty with a wretched smile lining her face and rejoined Edgar. Betty was both fuming and shaking. What was she entangled in? She thought Edgar alone was psychopathic enough, but now she was trapped with two of them. Her eyes scanned frantically over the scene. They were too deep into the woods at Thornhill for anyone of assistance to be nearby, and she knew she wouldn't make it very far with tied hands anyway. Her heart sank at the realization at just how thought through everything seemed.

Edgar stepped forward, shaking out the black hood in his grip. "That should be enough for tonight," he purred, stalking towards her. Betty turned her faltering glower towards Penelope, who gave a self-satisfied wave as burlap was pulled tersely over her head.

* * *

Jughead lay in the dark room atop an unmade bed. He had his legs stretched out and one hand tucked behind his head, the other twirled a plastic FBI badge. His shoulder bag lay in a heap on the floor next to his laptop, the lid left open, bathing Jughead in its cold, blue light.

He stared blankly into the blue void, his mind agonizing over all the minutia of what his conversation and investigation would be like in the morning. He looked at the badge - the big, bold "FBI" letters screaming at him. It might as well have been a big neon sign telling him to "Find Betty Immediately" since everything somehow reminded him of his girlfriend. He sighed and began tapping the badge lightly on his chest, turning his head to stare around the room.

A few shapes were illuminated by the light from the computer – heaps of clothes spread sloppily over the floor, a dresser, Betty's vanity. Jughead shuddered. He tried to stay away from thinking about what her conditions were like, but he couldn't help it staring at all the familiar comforts of the bedroom. Did she have a bed? Was she sleeping? Was she eating? He shook his head, trying to dislodge the unpleasant thoughts.

Gazing one last time into the blue of his computer screen, Jughead leaned down and shut it, throwing the room into complete darkness. He rolled onto his back and yawned. All that he knew was - that no matter what - he was bound and determined to get his girlfriend back.

* * *

Betty lay in the dark room atop an unmade bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling. She was still fighting a waning dose of sedative and was nowhere near sleep. A steady stream of rain fell outside the window, each drop hammering into her already thunderous mind.

Flashes of that grotesque night from the spring played behind her eyes, and it was now muddled with images of the evening's events – Edgar's face doused in light and shadow, Penelope's evil grins, phantoms of her friends – all overlapped by those piercing green eyes and a gunshot. She curled her hands instinctively into fists, her nails threatening to break the scarred skin. _No, No! _Betty gripped the edge of the bed, keeping her fingers away from her palms. A few silent tears slid down her cheeks.

She looked around the room, trying to center on something. Her eyes fell over the two small windows, the dresser, and then the nightstand, but she ended up fixing her gaze on the ruts in the wall, just barely visible in the faint moonlight. She slowed her breathing, inhaling deep breath after deep breath. After what felt like hours to her, Betty rolled onto her back and stared once again at the ceiling. Playing along was presenting itself as a potentially fatal gamble, but she also had no definitive escape plan yet. All that she knew was - that no matter what - she had to get out of there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters are going to be pretty chunky from here on out. As always, if you're enjoying, please leave a comment! I really love hearing from you about what is sticking out/how everyone receives the story!
> 
> Cheryl, Toni, Kevin, (and Alice!) will be popping up more regularly moving forward, so stay tuned! I'm pretty pumped about this story and am really enjoying writing it!


	8. Cabin Fever

Alice tapped her nails impatiently against the wooden table, a half-completed puzzle strewn in front of her. Her eyes drifted between the different pockets of people lounging around the room; a few laughed at some egregious joke while others meditated in the corner, dazed and absent expressions on their faces. Alice flicked the jigsaw piece she had been twirling between her fingers to the table. Was this really all there was to do here?

She sighed and rose from the table, a thread from her white billowy blouse catching on the sharp corner. "Dammit," she mumbled under her breath, yanking away the irksome fabric and proceeded into the hallway. The favored attire at The Farm was less than pleasant, and Alice couldn't wait until she was freely allowed to wear pantsuits and smack some people around with her heels again.

After the night Edgar had announced ascension, she and everyone else had been ordered to clear out of their old home in the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. 'Leave no trace behind as a final act of purification', he had said. She had moved on with The Farm to a new town into a recently closed school building. After all of the whispers and rumors abounding that last night in Riverdale, Edgar had ordered a strict technology ban and curfew, successfully severing all of the participants from outside lives.

Alice continued down the hall, coming upon a group of wide-eyed and energetic looking teenagers being led by an overly-enthusiastic Evelyn and Fangs. Alice plastered a painful smile on her face and waved. Evelyn returned the wave, as did a few of the kids on the tour. As soon as they rounded the corner, Alice turned her smile into a scowl. They didn't know what they were stepping into and she wasn't sure she could protect them - she already had a few teenagers left from Riverdale to still look after. She sighed. At least Betty had gotten out in time, along with Cheryl and Toni. And luckily the Keller boy had been the one chosen to stay behind on ascension night. She had thought that keeping Betty close within The Farm would allow her to keep a watchful eye on the rightfully suspicious teen, but Alice should have known Betty's gumption would have instigated something.

It had killed Alice watching her daughter believe she was abandoning her, turning into a mindless drone. And she had been so close to busting Edgar, but the sudden move had thrown a wrench into her already damaged plans. And now Edgar had begun acting strangely – well, stranger - again, disappearing at odd hours and long periods of time, carrying off food and curious supplies to who-knows-where. She figured this might be her chance to finally catch him off guard and find a way to contact the FBI.

Because, _God_, she had been with these freaks for too long.

Alice rounded another corner and headed towards the office area, hoping to find Edgar. She didn't have to go very far.

_Speak of the devil, _Alice thought to herself as she spotted Edgar walking down the hallway towards her. What she was not expecting was who was walking with him.

"Sister Alice," Edgar hummed, holding out an arm to her. "You're looking well this morning."

"Edgar," Alice beamed, gently rubbing his wrist. "Did you just get back?"

"Yes, I had a few things I needed to take care of last night." He rubbed her shoulder. "But I'm back now."

"And I see you've brought a fien – a friend – back with you," Alice corrected herself, throwing a dark glance toward the woman standing next to Edgar.

"Oh, Alice, I see you're still just as coy as ever," Penelope needled, giving Alice her infamous grin.

"What are you doing here?" Alice retorted back, crossing her arms.

"Penelope has had a rough couple of months back in Riverdale and needed a temporary place to stay," Edgar answered for her. "I've been sending her some supplies to help for the time being." Alice shot a glance toward the bundle of fabric in Edgar's hand. "And we pride ourselves on opening our doors to those in need," Edgar added, trying to appease the look of doubt on Alice's face.

Alice huffed, giving one last scornful facial jab to Penelope before softening her gaze and voice toward Edgar. "Well, if she's in need and thought of you for help, I can't blame her. Welcome." She lowered her voice even more and looked toward Edgar. "Can we talk?"

Edgar rested a reassuring hand on Alice's shoulder, "We will, but right now, I have to finish up a few onboarding things with Penelope. But we will, I promise." He motioned Penelope forward and the two walked past Alice toward Edgar's office.

Penelope threw her one last satiated smirk as Alice watched the pair disappear from view. A tight frown began to stretch across her face.

Something was very wrong.

xxx

Edgar shut the large double doors to his office, their echo ringing behind him. He deposited the hood into a drawer behind his desk, the needle wrapped inside clanging on the way down. He stretched and winced, rubbing his sore shoulder and back.

"I must admit, it's quite a feat to have muzzled Alice Cooper," Penelope quipped, settling herself into a leather chair in the corner of the room. "And both the pups, too."

"I didn't muzzle her, I healed her," Edgar replied, leaning against the large desk. Penelope raised an eyebrow then reached into a velvet bag lying next to the chair, pulling out a blood-red handkerchief.

He disregarded the snub. "Let's get back to business, shall we?

Penelope gave him a wave of her hand.

"You change out the car, we don't need a license plate being tracked, and I'll get you sufficient cash. Are your papers still holding up?"

"Swimmingly."

Edgar gave her a small nod. "Good."

"I will entrust you to whatever other little escapades you have planned. The look on that brat's face last night was enough for me. I want to see how the others flounder."

Edgar cocked his head, a more serious tone creeping its way into his voice. "While I concur that I'd rather be left alone on my end of things, do remember that we have to be strategic. Both of us being in Riverdale at the same time was risky. Do not try to push it." He knew Penelope had a flare for the dramatic and he'd be damned if that was what brought his plan to a premature end.

Penelope threw him a look of manufactured pain. "Oh Edgar, the cops in that town can't follow a lead if it was dangled on a stick in front of them. And with Betty Cooper off the chessboard, those other kids don't stand a chance putting together this little puzzle."

Edgar exhaled and moved behind the desk, lowering himself into a large, black leather chair. While he was a bit nervous at Penelope's unpredictable nature, he also couldn't help but smile at the satisfaction of turning Betty into the mystery. He knew she was twisting under that notion.

Edgar sat with his elbows propped up on his lap, fingers pressed into each other, and eyed Penelope as she pulled a silver gun out of the bag at her feet.

He stared at the gun as Penelope began to polish it with her handkerchief. "May I ask… how was it? Did you finally experience closure?" Edgar probed, his charismatic blue eyes digging into her.

"At first it was just a necessity. But-," she lowered her gaze, "after seeing him in that state, after finally understanding what those final moments were like for him, I found something cathartic," she said, voice dripping as she continued polishing the pistol. "Maybe that advice you're giving about facing your ghosts isn't so batty after all."

Edgar felt a smile spread across his face.

"Oh, and here, before you go-," he tossed Penelope a small black flip phone. "Despite my misgivings about modern technology, this may be each of our only warnings if something starts to go sour. If anyone starts sniffing around-,"

"-right between the eyes," Penelope hissed, a slice of reflected silver glinting in her dark eyes.

* * *

The motorcycle whirred to a gentle halt as Jughead pulled up to the towering shell of what had formerly been the base of operations for The Farm and the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. He shivered in the late October chill, bounding up the front stairs of the building. Months of neglect had left the area derelict and dirty, and remnants of police signage littered the overgrown front lawn. A grimy, marbled cherub rested on a stone pedestal above the entranceway, its frozen gaze lingering on Jughead as he passed underneath its obsolete watch post.

He swung open the main door and spotted Charles waiting for him.

"Jughead, so glad you made it. Thank you so much for being willing to help out. Got your badge?"

He flashed the FBI lanyard and replied, "No problem. What are detective half-brothers for?" He attempted a playful grin but feared it came out too artificial. He had to be careful with his words and expressions; Charles couldn't know that he was searching for different answers than what he had been invited for. "Hope you don't mind that I brought this with me," he said, lifting his camera in one hand.

Charles smiled back. "No, not at all." He started walking down the empty hall, his steps creating a hollow echo with each footfall. "Come on, I'll show you what we have so far."

The two rounded the corner and Jughead caught his breath. Tables were set up all around the main foyer, on which sat a plethora of computers, TV monitors, and equipment Jughead didn't even recognize. A dozen or so agents were scattered around the room, some bending over the monitors, others walking around with papers and binders shoved under their arms. Charles weaved through the maze of tables and Jughead followed, gawking at all the surveillance equipment he passed. Charles leaned towards Jughead, his voice a whisper, "We thought it best to set up shop right in the middle of where The Farm had their headquarters. Keeps us close to the investigation and keeps us away from the public eye." Jughead nodded, the excitement and awe of the new world around him momentarily melting away his serious composure.

They were approaching the middle of the room, toward a tall man with slicked-back hair. He had one hand in his pocket while the other held a phone to his ear. Everything about him screamed no-nonsense to Jughead.

As Charles and Jughead approached the tall man, he looked down and gave an agitated rumble. "Yeah, yeah. That sounds good. Send the results over right away. Alright. Bye." He shoved his phone into his pocket and gave Charles a passive nod, then rested an apprehensive gaze on Jughead.

"Smith-," the no-nonsense guy said to Charles without moving his eyes away from Jughead, "I'm guessing this is the kid you were talking about?"

"Yes, this is Jughead Jones. His father is the sheriff here." Charles nodded at Jughead then turned back to the no-nonsense man. "And Jughead, this is Agent Kane."

Jughead reached an open hand out to Agent Kane. "Hello sir, is it okay if I call you Agent K? Because I'm totally fine with you calling me Agent J."

Agent Kane kept both hands planted in his pockets and shot an upturned eyebrow at Charles. Jughead dropped his hand and glanced at Charles, who was discreetly shaking his head at him.

"Don't play with me, Jones. You're here by the thinnest line of jurisdiction. Charles spoke highly of you, don't make me regret allowing a teen in the middle of this investigation," Agent Kane said gruffly. "And you will address me as Agent Kane, or sir. Nothing more, nothing less."

Jughead swallowed. His first impression of the guy had apparently been an understatement. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry."

"Smith," Kane grumbled as his phone began ringing again, "Do whatever it is you need to do, just keep the kid out of our hair as much as you can."

"Yes, sir," He said as Agent Kane stalked away. Charles turned on Jughead and ushered him out of the room into the hall. "What was that?"

"I'm sorry," Jughead apologized, "I automatically default to sarcasm when it comes to certain authority types, especially suits. Is he your boss?"

Charles nodded, "Not the easiest guy to be around, but he runs an effective ship. He doesn't take well to jokes."

Jughead stifled a small smirk. "And that was the tamer of two jokes. I almost asked him about Rosebud."

Charles' lips curled into a smile. "How familiar are you with this place? How many times have you been here?"

"Only a handful. Betty dragged me here a few times, but she definitely spent more time here than I did." His mind settled back on his original mission, a serious nature falling back on his face. He couldn't get carried away and let his guard down that much. He had to stay focused. He sighed, "I wish she were here."

"So do I," Charles responded, turning towards Jughead. "I really hope you guys get a breakthrough soon. I wish we were able to provide more resources for you and FP, I really do."

Jughead watched Charles' face. His eyes looked sincere. His gestures were calm and supportive.

Jughead stopped in front of a large piece of graffiti on the wall and backed up to take a picture. _Click. _It was a crudely tagged red compass with all four cardinal directions. Someone had written 'Northside rules, Southside sucks' respectively next to each of their corresponding letters.

Charles stared at the wall as Jughead squinted at the LCD screen, examining the picture he had just taken. "Luckily we moved in before this whole building belonged to the graffiti artists. That wouldn't have been good for our investigation." Charles smiled.

Jughead frowned. "Can we go to some of the most active areas?"

Charles nodded and pointed ahead. "Let's start in the chamber ahead, I believe you are familiar with this one." They walked up to large, wooden double doors with a stained glass cross overtop it. Jughead nodded; this is where they had found Kevin. Charles pushed open the creaky doors and the two stepped inside.

White clothes no longer lined the musty room; now small yellow evidence markers sat in their place. Jughead crouched and began snapping photos. Betty had told him that before The Farm moved in, this had been the room where the sisters kept a gargoyle statue used to manipulate the patients – and where almost the entire staff of nuns had been murdered.

"Geez, this place is still unnerving," Jughead quipped. "I don't know how anyone could have lived here." _Click. _He fired off a few more photos.

"What?" Charles scoffed in a teasing manner. "Throw in some floating candles, a few more medieval ornaments here and there, and Riverdale's got itself its very own Hogwarts, complete with its own strange and foretelling history!"

Jughead rolled his eyes. "Wrong town, I hear all the magic is in Greendale." He turned around and stepped out into the hallway. "Okay, so your main investigation is surrounding all the organ harvesting, correct? Can I see where you've found the evidence of that?"

Charles brushed past him down the small set of stairs and turned left down a crudely-lit hallway. Jughead followed close behind and they turned into a room with a port-hole window on its grayish-green door. A sickly yellow light bathed the room and the shocking elements within. A few abandoned medical trays were scattered across the floor and shelves. An old-fashioned green surgical table sat in the center of the room, with a large, metal door looming behind it.

He propped his camera up in one hand and slowly stepped around the room. He traced one hand over the table, his fingers brushing up against faded dark stains.

A small chill ran down Jughead's spine; Betty had described certain elements of The Farm to him, but seeing the dimly-lit, hollow echoes of what accompanied the horrors Edgar had been implementing was downright chilling.

"Disturbing, isn't it?" Charles' question echoed Jughead's thoughts. "We know that Edgar and Evelyn recruit people they deem 'emotionally vulnerable' into The Farm to more easily manipulate them into believing they can physically get rid of their pain. It makes it much easier to harvest organs if the victims are willing." He leaned up against the wall. Jughead snapped a few pictures of the surgical table and then pried open the industrial refrigerator door behind it. A large blast of cold air blew into his face.

"He must have been fairly fruitful here," Charles continued. "He never had such a large storage area in the past places we've tracked him."

"Yeah," Jughead grunted. _Click. _"There's, unfortunately, a lot of impressionable people here in Riverdale."

He looked at Charles, who was looking sadly around the room. He decided now would be a good time to change the subject. "So... I'm guessing my dad told you about what happened to Chic? I know you two used to be roommates."

Charles looked back at Jughead. "Yeah. It's a shame. He was a strange guy, but for a while, all we had was each other."

"Do you think he deserved his death?" Jughead narrowed his eyes, pretending to shudder at the remembrance of Chic's corpse.

"What? No. He wasn't the nicest person, but I don't think anyone deserves to be murdered." Charles gave Jughead a puzzled look. "Why, do you?"

Jughead wasn't prepared for a response. "He did some really crappy stuff to the Coopers. I thought he was going to hurt Betty on multiple occasions. But I guess no. I'm just pissed that his stint in jail was so short."

Charles looked down. Jughead could tell he still held sympathy for Chic. Despite everything. But, he also might not know about everything, though he was sure Betty would have told him about what had gone down. But, after everything, maybe he was just grieving for someone who had once been his only friend.

"I'm sorry," Jughead, surprised, found himself saying, "We don't have to talk about this."

Charles looked back up and cleared his throat, "It's fine, Jughead. We all have a lot to process." Now he changed the subject, "So, what do you want to see next?"

Jughead thought about it for a moment. "It might help if I could see what you've already got?" he asked, "this place is starting to freak me out. Besides, Betty would be way more helpful with this part than I would. I'll take notes for her."

Jughead watched Charles' eyes; they remained calm and sympathetic.

Charles let out a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, good idea. Come on, I'll take you back to the surveillance room."

XXX

Charles leaned over the monitor, clicking through a few tabs. He had ushered Jughead to a large computer in the far corner of the room. Agent Kane had left the building and the other agents were minding their own business. Charles double-clicked on an icon at the top of the screen and a collage of photos flew across the dim blue display. "Let's compare what you just saw to what we've already documented. These pictures are mainly from when we first arrived, what was left right after The Farm took off from Riverdale."

Jughead leaned over the table to get a closer look at the collection in front of him. The pictures showed mostly what he had already seen – a ring of perfectly abandoned white clothing and rooms full of burnt-out candles and other cultish paraphernalia – but there were a few he didn't recognize from his sparse visits to the building with Betty. One looked like the inside of an empty bedroom, one some sort of rec room, and another still a room that held rows of empty shelves and scattered boxes.

Jughead's eyes drifted between the assortment of photos on the monitor when his gaze froze on a folder slightly peeking out from behind the corner of one of the pictures, sending his mind into a panic. He hovered the mouse over the folder that read, "Riverdale High Security Footage."

"Jughead, don't-," Charles attempted to interject, but Jughead was already opening the files within. A grainy video clip of the exterior of Riverdale High popped up on the screen. For a few seconds, nothing happened, then the pixelated shape of a familiar station wagon drove across the frame. Jughead's eyes widened as he felt his heart rate increase. He watched as the car drifted into a parking spot under the tree the teens had initially found it under. It stalled; so did Jughead's heart. The driver-side door swung open and a ponytail bobbed into view before stepping into the sharp shadows under the tree. Jughead felt his breath catch in his throat – it may have been noisy and black and white, but it was the first glimpse of his girlfriend he had gotten in over a week, and the sudden flood of emotions tumbling inside his head made it hard to think straight. A small, bright pixel flashed near the bottom of the car and then Betty shot out of the shadow for a split second before a grainy black shape pulled her back into the dark. Jughead's eyes frantically darted around the whole frame as he continued watching, waiting for the next flash of movement - waiting for something else to piece the story together - but nothing came.

"Jughead…" Charles whispered, placing a hand gently on Jughead's shoulder. Jughead pulled a ragged breath in through his nose, Betty's terrified face suspended in his mind. Then he rounded on Charles.

"Why do you have this?" he demanded, his voice unnaturally steady. His suspicion of Charles had begun to melt, but now it roared back to life. "I thought you said you weren't involved in her case, that you couldn't provide any resources?"

Charles had a crooked frown on his face. He let out a crestfallen sigh. "FP originally asked if I could assist him with the case. We have more advanced equipment than Riverdale PD and he sent me that video, hoping I could enhance the image quality. But there's only so much we can do with shoddy security footage."

"My dad has seen this? Why wouldn't he show me?" Jughead fumed, pushing himself away from the computer and Charles. "Why have you been hiding this?"

"Jughead, FP was just trying to protect you. You were already so freaked out-,"

"Oh yeah, shield Jughead! He can't possibly take any more hits, he might crack!" he roared. "Well, I don't appreciate everyone withholding information from me! She's my girlfriend for crying out loud."

Charles stepped forward but Jughead continued to back away. "No! No, I'm done here." He shoved through the maze of tables and plodded towards the main entrance. "And I'm taking these with me!" he shouted, lifting his camera.

Jughead didn't turn around. He couldn't look at Charles. He couldn't think. He burst through the front doors, passing quickly under the eye of the stone cherubim and wrapped his hands around the handles of his motorcycle. Feeling the pressure rising in his chest, Jughead choked out a sob, leaning against his bike. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to steady his breathing. He wrapped a leg over the motorcycle and revved the engine to life.

* * *

Veronica sat in a cozy booth in the corner of the empty speakeasy, papers scattered across the table in front of her. She thumbed down the scrawled-out list in her gold-lined ledger and crossed one of the bullet-points out. She smiled to herself and picked up her phone. "Mayor McCoy!" she gushed, pushing back her glasses that had been sliding precariously down the tip of her nose. "I'm so happy to hear that your reinstatement has been so smooth." A pause. "Yes, I do. I actually wanted to ask if I can book the town hall this coming Monday night? Mmhmm. For a rally, for Betty."

She scribbled a few notes in her ledger, picking up her pen and bouncing her head whenever Mayor McCoy spoke. "Of course. We'll have proper security, I've already talked to the sheriff station about that. I'm taking care of everything else, I just need you to sign off on the location." Veronica smiled. "Thank you."

She placed the phone on the papers in front of her and exhaled cheerfully. She was crossing items off her to-do list quicker than she had anticipated. Seems the town was more eager for something to rally behind than she had thought. She had already gotten FP's overwhelming approval for the event and had fortunately received sponsorship from Pop's. She had even managed to finesse an appearance from the Pussycats.

Veronica sighed and leaned back down, looking over all the paperwork strewn across the booth. She looked up at the hazy sunlight pouring in through the basement windows into the speakeasy. A few birds chirped happily outside. Veronica relished in the moment; she was taking time to herself, taking time to plan and organize something so important.

Her phone screen lit up and she turned back. A photo was staring back up at her, a photo of four smiling faces around the watering hole at the edge of Sweetwater River. She sighed and brought the phone closer to her face. "We haven't forgotten about you, B."

* * *

Archie awoke suddenly and gruffly to a loud slamming. He shot straight out of his bed, his heart pounding against his chest as hard as the door he had just heard. Vegas growled and darted out of the bedroom, Archie dazedly staggering after, his baseball bat swinging hastily at his side.

He flew down the stairs and tried to mentally prepare himself for whatever might be downstairs, especially since he hadn't had time to throw a shirt on. His frazzled mind could have sworn he had locked the door before going to bed. Archie raised his bat and rocketed himself down the last few remaining steps, coming face to face with an angry, and slightly bewildered, Jughead.

"Jug! What… how did you get in here?" Archie moaned, lowering his bat. He blinked, trying to shake the lingering sleep from his eyes.

"You've kept a key in the same place since we were five," Jughead stated, petting Vegas' head. The dog had turned much more enthusiastic after seeing who was at the door. "I texted you earlier that I was coming over."

"Oh sorry, I was still asleep."

"It's noon."

"It's Saturday," Archie yawned. His heart rate was slowing and his mind was catching up to the rest of him. He looked over at his friend and this time was able to take in his appearance; Jughead's hair was messy and windswept and his cheeks were red and blotchy. A disconcerted scowl sat on his face as though it had been plastered there all morning.

"Dude, what happened?"

"I'll get to that," Jughead said, giving Vegas one last pat before standing to his feet. "Can I stay here this weekend? I need a bit of space from my dad."

"Sure," Archie replied, giving Jughead a probing look. "Do you want some food? I can make some sandwiches."

"Yeah," Jughead grumbled indifferently. He looked over at Archie. "But first, could you put a shirt on?"

* * *

'_Dad. I'm going to stay with Archie tonight. I need to think through some things. Might not see you until Monday.'_

FP leaned back on the couch and reread the text Jughead had sent him. He tapped his phone against his chin. He knew that Jughead would probably end up in a bad mood after this morning; he didn't know how to stop his son from chasing his wild theory and he hadn't had time to warn Charles about it. Maybe Jughead staying away for a few days to blow off steam was a good thing for both of them – he and Jug weren't exactly in the best place after Jughead had accused him of moonlighting as a cop.

FP struggled with that thought, too. Jughead had just brought it back to the surface. He rubbed his face and curbed a frustrated grunt.

He jumped slightly as his phone buzzed. "Hey, Charles, how did it go today?"

FP paused and listened. "Jughead saw…? Damn."

Charles leaned against the wall outside the main entrance to the Sisters of Quiet Mercy. "Yeah, he didn't take well to it at all. Maybe we should have told him about it in the beginning."

"_No, I still think we did the right thing. His reaction proved that. I'll have to talk to him about it, smooth things over. But for now, he's staying at a friends' house. I think that's good for all of us right now."_

Charles put his hand up against the wall and stared vacantly up into the gray sky. A few crows flew overhead, sending a small chorus of caws ringing through the air. "He still doesn't trust me. He's not very good at hiding it, he tried to case me today."

FP snorted, "Yeah, he's not very subtle that one. I'm sorry about that, I tried to warn you last night."

"_It's okay, FP. It was pretty obvious in the way you and Jughead were interacting when he gave me his answer last night. I am a trained detective after all."_

Footfalls sounded on the staircase as Jellybean appeared in the living room. "Yeah, I guess I'm not so subtle, either. Hey, I have to go. But, hey, Veronica is setting up a rally for Betty on Monday, swing by if you can and we'll catch up then."

FP shoved his phone in his pocket as Jellybean plopped down in a chair across from him. "Looks like we got the whole weekend to ourselves, JB. Jughead is staying over at Archie's."

She knit her eyebrows, concern spreading across her face. "Is he okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, he's fine. He just wanted some space. Teenage boy stuff and all that."

Jellybean relaxed her face but gave FP an exasperated look. "Dad, you don't have to sugarcoat everything for me. I know Jughead's upset."

FP stared at his daughter, really taking in how mature she looked. She was growing up and he had missed most of it. "You're right, I'm sorry." He glanced at the time on his phone. "Hey, I know we haven't been able to spend a lot of father-daughter time together recently with everything going on. Do you want to go to Pop's for lunch?"

Jellybean bounced up and smiled. "Really?"

"Yeah, really." FP smiled and rose from the couch, slinging an arm over his daughter's shoulder. He led her out of the house and toward his truck, casting a reflexive glance down the street. His heart sank as he saw Jughead's motorcycle parked outside the Andrews' house instead of his own. He pushed away the frown that had begun to form on his face and instead forced a smile and turned to Jellybean. "Race you to the car."

* * *

"It was just right there, on his computer?" Archie mumbled, talking between bites of a sandwich, "that's insane."

He and Jughead were sitting around the island in the kitchen, an assortment of bread, meat, and various spreads scattered all over the counter. Jughead smeared a gob of mayonnaise onto a slice of bread, making his second sandwich of the day. He had grown considerably calmer since he first arrived, Archie noticed. Food had that effect on him. Archie took a bite of his own sandwich, a dribble of mustard running down his chin and onto his shirt. Archie had put on a shirt.

"More or less, yeah." Jughead shook his head. "It was awful, Archie. I mean, I've been plagued with imaginings of how that night went, but actually watching it was… chilling. It-it was so fast… she didn't even...,"

"Jug, you don't have to tell me," Archie quietly reassured. Jughead had begun trembling and, although he wanted details, Archie knew he couldn't push. He had created his own version of that night in his head, too, and knowing there was actual footage – actual evidence – of what happened put a large pit in Archie's stomach. There was one question though he felt he could ask.

"Jug," Archie cautiously pressed, "could you see who it was?"

He watched Jughead's face darken, anger and grief resurfacing once again. "No," he stared down at the counter. "No, there was just shadow."

Archie's face dropped. Almost. They could have almost had a lead. Everything was running cold and it was frustrating just sitting and waiting. He knew Jughead wanted to investigate on his own, and he was mostly okay with that, he wasn't a detective, but he also didn't want to sit around and do nothing while Jughead was stretching himself thin. Good thing the rally was soon.

"Oh, Jughead, I forgot to tell you, Veronica and I-," he realized they hadn't told Jughead yet, but he barely got a word out before he was promptly cut off.

"And to add insult to injury," Jughead interrupted, his anger flaring back up, "My dad knew about this! The whole time! He asked Charles for help behind my back, even when he knew I didn't trust him."

Archie furrowed his brow. "You don't trust Charles? I mean, I know I don't know him very well, but your dad and Betty seem to like-,"

"I'll stop you right there, Archie. You just said you don't know him very well. That's right, we don't."

"Well, that's sort of our fault." Archie bit his lip. That might not have been the best thing to say, as Jughead scrunched up his eyebrows. "I mean, Betty invited us to meet him, but we were busy, or just didn't want to. Guess we didn't realize how important he might become."

Jughead remained silent and stared at his half-eaten sandwich. Archie looked down at his own and took a nervous nibble out of it. He waited for Jughead to respond, but the continuing silence prompted Archie to say what he had been mulling over.

"Do you think-," he faltered, but it was too late. "Do you think that maybe, you're just projecting your grief on him?"

Now, Archie had seen Jughead mad before, but the look that he was currently receiving made him question whether or not Jughead had actually just been holding back on him this entire time. Jughead was holding what had originally been a sandwich, but now the thing in his hand resembled something more like abstract art. His shoulders rose and arched as if he were tomcat fighting for his scrap of territory.

"What I mean – Veronica told me that when I'm upset I put up blinders or something," Archie added frantically, unsure of whether he should have kept silent or not. "I get really focused on one thing and then block everything else out. I think you might want an answer so badly, you're trying to force one."

Jughead's silence was beginning to scare Archie. He was just sitting across from him with a crazed look in his eyes, his rigid shoulders frozen, only moving when Jughead sucked in a hitched breath. Archie took a large gulp of juice, periodically raising his eyes above the glass to watch Jughead.

"I…" Jughead finally spoke, his voice a raspy whisper, "I can't believe you're not taking my side."

Archie dropped his cup on the counter and stared at his friend in confusion. "What side?"

"That my dad and Charles are in the wrong for keeping this information from me!"

"What?" Archie wasn't sure if he had missed something in this conversation, or if Jughead was deflecting. " Jug, no! I don't think it's right that they kept that from you, I just really don't think Charles had anything to do with Betty."

Jughead dropped his eyes. His shoulders relaxed slightly, but the ugly scowl was still drawn on his face. "Then who did, Archie?" he shouted, "Can you answer that for me?"

"Oh look, Veronica!" Archie yelped, steering the conversation away as his girlfriend walked through the door. _Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. _He threw her a 'Help me' look as she strode into the kitchen. Veronica eyed him with a quizzical look, then shot a quick glance to Jughead. She turned back to Archie and gave him a knowing nod.

"Answer what, Jughead?" Veronica retorted, throwing a staunch look at Jughead as she placed her ledger on the counter.

"Who took Betty. And why everyone seems to be against me all of a sudden!" Jughead sneered, wiping the silly putty sandwich inattentively off of his hands.

Veronica cast a sidelong glance at Archie. "Well, Jughead, that's actually why I'm here. I didn't realize you were going to be here, but it's a good thing you are. Now I can go over all the details with you instead of just Archie."

Archie alternated his eyes between Veronica and Jughead, internally sighing as he watched Jughead's shoulders begin to relax.

"While unfortunately I still can't answer that first question," Veronica continued, flipping open her ledger and pulling out papers, "I can tell you that people certainly aren't against you. And we aren't letting people forget about Betty. We're organizing a rally in honor of our girl Monday night."

Jughead's entire demeanor shifted and he threw Archie a bemused glance. "Really? Why didn't you tell me?"

Archie threw his hands up in defeat, "I tried." He took a sip of his juice and watched Veronica. He could have sworn she was trying to hold back a laugh. He managed to smile too - he could always count on her to diffuse a tense situation when he couldn't.

"I've lined up almost everything already, but I wanted to ask a few more favors." Veronica turned to Archie. "Archie, I know you haven't dusted off your guitar in a while, but would you be willing to come out of retirement and play at the rally?"

Archie smiled and looked at Jughead. "Of course." Jughead stared back, the corner of his mouth upturning slightly at his answer.

"Excellent! I trust you to come up with something poignant and perfect for the evening." Now she turned to Jughead. "And Jughead, I know that you have a lot going on, but I was hoping you would be able to say a few words if you are up for it, inspire some action on Betty's behalf?"

Jughead studied Veronica's sympathetic face then flipped his eyes around the room. Archie and Veronica shared one more unspoken thought; Archie hoped Jughead wasn't too distraught to say yes. He had been worried about that, especially after seeing just how distressed Jughead really was at everything.

Jughead looked between the two of them and nodded. "Yeah, of course, I'll speak. Count me in."

Archie let out a deep exhale as Veronica jotted down a few notes. She smiled and Archie could feel himself doing the same. Finally, it looked like they were going to get somewhere and instill a bit of hope back into the situation.

"Thank you, guys," Jughead breathed. "This is a really good idea." He reached into the nearest bag of bread and pulled out two slices. "Just promise me one thing, okay?"

Archie and Veronica nodded.

"Please, can we not keep secrets from each other? If we know something, we need to share it."

Archie glanced at Veronica out of the corner of his eye. She was returning the look, the flash of a twinkle at the edge of her eye. "Of course."

_We dedicated the rest of that weekend to planning out the rally, united in our loyalty and growing hope. A break from my family seemed to be doing good, and my friends had succeeded in offering me a welcome distraction. The atmosphere in Archie's bedroom was bright as we planned out our words and lyrics for our lost friend, finally giving us a glimpse of the persistent hope that was trying to break through the surrounding gloom like a lighthouse on a cliff. And we wished and yearned that wherever she was, Betty was feeling that hope, too. _

_As we started the day that would point the town's attention back on Betty Cooper, we longingly believed that somehow our lighthouse would cut through the darkness, its beam finding its way through the fog and to Betty, offering her a welcoming and guiding hand pointed towards home._

* * *

Betty paced back and forth in the small bedroom, the floorboards creaking lightly under her steps. She shivered and tucked her hands under her arms. The days and nights were becoming colder as they headed later into October, and Betty's jacket and jeans, even when coupled with a blanket, were no match for the autumn drafts finding their way into the room.

She yawned and rubbed her eyes, staring longingly at the unkempt bed. The morning had finally come after another restless night and she wanted nothing more than to just lay down and try to sleep through the day. Maybe the nightmares wouldn't come in the daylight.

_No. _Betty groaned, pulling her mind away from the tantalizing thought. She was tired, but she had to stay alert and not waste any more time if she wanted to get out of Edgar's funhouse. She yawned again, then shook her head forcefully. "Betty Cooper, come on, you've bested all-nighter sprints writing Blue & gold articles _and _studying for the SATs, you can do this."

She ran a hand up and down her arm; her wound had finally healed over and now she was left with a long, white scar snaking from her elbow to her wrist. She moved her hand to her temple and groaned. On top of everything else, she could feel herself growing weaker. Food only came every other day, and even then it was only one meals worth. The mixture of sleep deprivation and hunger was creating physical weakness as well as mental fog, both of which were things she did not need, both of which were things she knew Edgar had planned on happening, weakening her into submission in his crazy plan. It was textbook conditioning, but, nonetheless, Betty could feel its effects taking hold. Yet she remained bound and determined to beat it, to break out and find her own way home if she had to.

And she felt as though she had to. Betty glanced at the tally marks she had dug into the wall - today marked day ten. She guessed that Edgar and Penelope had been very concise in covering their tracks, as no one had come yet. That thought knocked around her skull for a while as frustration rose in her chest, but she let it out with a sigh of resignation. She couldn't blame them; if she didn't even know where she was, then how would anyone back home? She sank onto the bed and held her head in her hands.

Back home. She knew she wasn't in Riverdale; the whole day and night of the Thornhill visit it had been raining – except for when they were actually at Thornhill. There had only been a clear and boundless sky above then. That revelation was the final nudge Betty had needed to finally attempt some sort of escape plan.

A cold wind whipped outside the cabin, whistling through the walls. Betty shivered and leaned back on the bed, its' springs giving off a mousy squeak under her weight. She stopped and cocked her head. She leaned again, the mattress springs again squeaking in response.

The beginnings of a smile formed at the edge of her mouth as she turned and kneeled next to the bed, ripping off the layers of sheets to reveal the old mattress. Swiping the wood pick from the nightstand, Betty began stabbing and tearing at the side of the mattress. It was old, but it was still tough and she only managed to cut through a few threads before she realized the pick wasn't sharp enough to cut the full way through.

Betty rose to her feet, excitement replacing the frustration that had resided in her chest only moments ago. She scrambled out of the bedroom and scanned the front area, her eyes searching for anything that would be sharp enough to cut through the thick fabric. Out of the corner of her eye, Betty spotted one of the plates stacked in the kitchen sink. She walked over and picked it up, running a finger along the curved edge of the stained dish. Sucking in a deep breath, she raised the plate above her head and, in one swift movement, brought it down hard on the kitchen counter. With a shrill crash, the plate shattered against the countertop, hurtling ragged pieces of ceramic across the small kitchenette.

Betty had stumbled backward after bringing the plate down; the small act had caused small black dots to hang in her vision. She drew in a labored breath and stooped down, pushing the scattered shards into one, big pile. When she had collected as much of the mess as she could, she scooped up the pile and marched over to the couch, pushing against it with her hip. The black dots resurged as she pushed down on the edge of one of the floorboards with her heel, flipping it up. She knelt down and dropped the plate fragments into the secret cubby, keeping one long, sharp piece in her grasp. Betty pulled the matchbook from the hole and quickly slid the floorboard back over top.

She sat back down next to the bed and dug the shard into the side of the mattress, tearing through frayed thread after thread. After a few minutes of labored stabbing and slicing, a rip opened up, a few handfuls of fluffy bedding spilling out of it.

"Ha!" Betty cheered, jabbing a hand into the rip, causing it to tear wider. She dug out a few more handfuls of stuffing until she was staring at what she had hoped to find – small metal springs. She pulled at one of the springs until it twisted forward away from the others. She wiped a bit of sweat from her forehead and pulled one of the matches out of the matchbook. Striking the flame to life, Betty gently stuck it under the metal wire she was holding, making sure to keep it away from the surrounding bed stuffing. "Please don't light the bed on fire, please don't light the bed on fire…" she chanted to herself, slightly wincing at the fiery spark inches away from her fingertips.

She watched as the thin wire began to bubble, and as soon as she felt it weaken under her grip, she pulled, ripping a section of the wire out of the spring. "Yes!" she shouted, "Yes!" A wide smile spread across Betty's lips as she held the match under the wire until the thin metal became malleable enough to bend. She shook out the lit match and took the wire between her thumb and index finger, pressing them together until the wire bent into a crude 'V' shape.

Betty sat on the floor and grinned at her improvisation, allowing herself to drink in the most happiness she had felt since arriving at that wretched cabin.

It was no bobby pin, but it would do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! This one was a monster (this and the next chapter were originally one giant chapter, but I had to chop them up). I got stuck in the first draft and had to step away for a few days to break my block. And it worked! Because this chapter and the next might be my favorite so far. Maybe, I don’t know, I’m biased.
> 
> But, thank you, thank you so much to everyone following the story and leaving comments! I am very thankful.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and leave a comment if you feel so inspired! They have really been pushing me to try to make this as good and as concise a story as possible. I’ve been spending a lot of time on it.


	9. Rally or Not, Here I Come

"No, no! Those go over there," Veronica objected, watching as two attendants placed speakers where the hors d'oeuvres table should be. She sighed and walked toward the stage in the town hall as the workers ambled away, the speakers in tow. Archie was leaning on the edge of the stage tuning his guitar, and he paused as Veronica strolled up to him.

"We're an hour out and everything is going smoothly for the most part." She checked off a box on her list and smiled at Archie. He smiled back. "Where's Jughead?"

"He'll be here. He left after school and said he had something to check on first, whatever that means." Archie pulled the strap over his shoulder and placed his guitar gently on the stage. "Do you think we made the right decision?"

Veronica frowned and knit her eyebrows. She had been wondering the same thing, knowing full well the two of them had lied to Jughead. "I think so. I mean, you said yourself that he would just be upset seeing us together."

"What? That's not what I'm talking about." Veronica raised her eyebrow. "We haven't told him about your dad, Ronnie."

She winced. He was right. She wasn't sure why since it was mostly good news – he had nothing to do with Betty's disappearance - but they had managed to calm Jughead down that day, and, well, it didn't seem right to bring up anything else regarding that issue.

She sighed. "I know, but it just didn't feel right after we got him smiling again." Archie looked at her with worry in his eyes. "It's okay, Archie, it's going to be fine," she added.

"Veronica, Archie!" Veronica turned around and saw Cheryl walking towards them. "I thought I would find you here already. Listen, I would love it if you gave me the chance to perform tonight."

"Uhh…" Veronica began, staring at Cheryl's enthusiastic smile. "Archie is already performing, and Val and Melody agreed to play with him-,"

"Perfect! We'll have a full band then." She whipped her head toward Archie. "What's on the setlist, Archie? I can learn quickly."

Veronica exchanged a look with Archie, who just shrugged his shoulders.

"Cheryl-,"

"I am _not _being left out of all this. Let me help, please. I've been itching to perform again, anyway."

Veronica looked her up and down. "Oh... okay. Yeah, you're right." She relaxed, as did Cheryl. "This is all about getting support behind Betty's cause, and you really came through when we needed you before. Yes, you can sing."

Cheryl lit up and bounced up onto the stage. She started to rearrange the already placed instruments.

Veronica turned back to Archie and smiled, "Hope you don't mind some company on stage."

Archie shook his head, "No, actually this is okay. She can fill out some of the harmonies. I really am a bit rusty." He plucked an off-tune strum and goofily smiled back up at Veronica.

She grinned back then looked around; volunteers were shuffling around setting up chairs and tables, and Cheryl's adjustments on stage echoed around the room.

"Tonight is going to be perfect. We'll make it perfect." Veronica found herself repeating the words she had spoken to Archie on the opening night of his community center. She hoped the words would ring true this time.

* * *

Jughead sat back in the metal chair, staring half-heartedly at the large board in front of him. Orange candlelight flickered around him, casting hazy flashes across the walls of the bunker. Shadows from the pictures and string bobbed in the glow, flickering in Jughead's eyes.

He had tacked some of his pictures from the Sisters of Quiet Mercy to the middle of the board, next to them two index cards. One simply stated, "Charles," the other boasted the question, "Connection to Chic?" A red string traced down to a corner of the board where Hiram's picture hung.

He leaned forward and pulled the "Charles" card off of the board and stared apprehensively at it. Was Archie right? Had he only been so focused on Charles because of his projected grief? He raised the card back to the board, his other hand hovering a tack above it. He wavered and instead tacked the card to the top corner of the board instead of the middle.

Jughead gazed across the rest of the board, his hand over his mouth in thought. Another card was stuck in the bottom left corner, sporting a few crossed-out names and more question marks, one of which said, "Penelope – Chic connection and motive."

There had to be more connections amongst all this. There had to be. He stared doggedly at one of the pictures from the Sisters – the crude graffiti compass - and ran a hand over it. He didn't want to admit it, not even to himself, but he was directionless.

But all that was going to change tonight.

He felt it. Something was going to go right tonight. They were going to get an answer - or at least a direction - and they were going to get closer to Betty.

Jughead let out a deep breath and swiped his speech notes from the table in front of him. He stuffed them in his pocket and tramped to the metal ladder, climbing up into the undulant swell of blue moonlight streaming down into the quiet bunker.

* * *

Betty panted as she fiddled with the lock on the front door of the cabin, twisting and prodding in the keyhole with her makeshift lockpick. She had taken an hour or two - she couldn't even tell the time anymore - to regain her strength and was now trying to unlock the front door. The wire was not as thin and bendy as she had hoped, making the unlocking process longer and more tiring than she had originally anticipated, but she persisted, already feeling as though she had wasted too much time on her earlier break.

Her knees were growing uncomfortable under the hard, wooden floor, and her arm itched under the ticklish fabric from the rip in her jacket, drops of dried blood still visible around the edges. A few beads of sweat formed on Betty's forehead as she furrowed her brow, concentrating harder on the fickle lock.

_Pop! _

"Yes!" Betty hissed, her heart fluttering. She turned the knob and pushed, the door catching hard on the outside padlock. Betty pressed herself up against the door, propping it open to keep the now-visible chain taut. She reached a hand out through the thin open space and spun the padlock toward her, revealing the second keyhole, and plunged the wire inside.

She jimmied the wire around, feeling for the tumblers. Betty stuck out her tongue and huffed; this one was a bit more challenging. She pushed herself harder into the door and closer to the lock, the chilly afternoon air reinvigorating her sudden want – her need – for freedom.

Betty pried the wire deeper into the lock, suddenly feeling a click. She turned the wire, accidentally tumbling onto the porch as the chain and door gave way. She sat up, collecting her breath, and looked around, taking in the wilderness around her. She pulled herself to her feet and stepped away from the open door, surveying the outside of the cabin for the first time. A ramshackle porch swing hung lopsided to the right, and a wraparound banister surrounded the front porch, both matching the shoddy white of the front door. Thick bushes and trees encircled the cabin, creating a fence of greenery that placed the cabin in its own little thicket.

"How on earth did Edgar even find this place...?" Betty muttered, bounding down the small steps and onto the soft grass. She looked around at the forest in front of her, noticing a few small trails leading away into the woods.

Her heart pounded in her chest - this time in exhilaration instead of fear - and she cast one last spiteful glance back at the cabin before jogging down one of the small trails toward the galvanizing sound of flowing water.

* * *

FP walked into the already crowded town hall, an arm wrapped around Jellybean. He looked around and smiled at the setup Veronica had managed to arrange seemingly overnight. Pop's had a stand in the back and was handing out samples and appetizers, and the walls and stage were decorated with smiling photos of Betty and her friends. A particularly nice one of her and Jughead was propped by the door.

He saw Veronica and Archie near the stage and walked over. "Veronica, this is amazing. Thank you so much for setting this up."

"Thank you, FP! That means a lot. We hope it means a lot to Jughead, too."

"Yeah… speaking of that, have you seen him? I know he stayed with you over the weekend, Archie. Thank you for that."

Archie shook his head. "No, I haven't seen him since school ended. I'm guessing he hasn't come home yet?"

FP stifled a deep sigh and instead just shook his head. "Not yet."

"Don't worry, he'll come around, Mr. Jones," Archie said, "he cooled off a lot this weekend."

FP stared at Archie and Veronica, the latter of whom nodded enthusiastically back at him. Maybe space was just what they needed. He didn't always know what to do or say in tough situations and he was thankful that Jughead had such supportive friends.

He let his gaze fall over the expansive crowd gathered in the hall. Despite turning their back on certain issues in the past, the town had indeed grown into an actual community in his eyes. Not only were all of these people here for Betty, but he felt as though they were here for his son as well. His eye caught a blonde man against the back door.

"Hey, JB, how about you go save our seats? I'll grab us some food." Jellybean nodded and walked into a row towards the front, casually stepping over already-seated people. He turned back toward Archie and Veronica, "I'll see you guys later," then walked over to the back of the room.

"Charles, thanks for coming."

"Not a problem, FP," Charles said, straightening up as FP approached. "Have you and Jughead talked?"

FP shook his head. "No, he hasn't been home the whole weekend. I figured I would let him talk when he's ready instead of pushing it."

"You were just trying to protect him. If anything, this is my fault. I should have never left it-,"

FP's stomach dropped. "No, no, Charles. This is my mess, don't try to cover for me. I broke our trust."

Charles nodded and crossed his arms, still looking concerned. "How should we go about this? Should I try to talk to him?"

"No." FP waggled a hand at Charles. "No, let me handle this. Archie and Veronica said he cheered up over the weekend. That's good, that gives me room to talk. I'll apologize first and foremost, and we'll just have to go from there."

"FP?" Veronica had come up behind them and was nervously looking at him. "Sorry to pull you away, but we are getting started in about ten minutes and I would love it if you would come backstage so we could talk over the schedule."

FP glanced at Charles, who nodded. "It's okay, FP, go. I'll hang around here until the end. I'll keep on eye on things down here, make sure everything goes well."

FP nodded and turned around, following Veronica to the stage. He hoped everything would go well, too.

* * *

A bubbling stream trickled slowly over rocks and fallen foliage, gently snaking in between the lush trees of the forest. Betty had been following the path of the stream hoping it would lead her somewhere into civilization, but she was now afraid she was only going deeper and deeper into the woods, as the forest around her had grown darker. The canopy of trees had grown thicker, but she could still see a few patches of the sunset sky above her.

She trudged along the sandy bank, staring longingly into the water. She wanted desperately to stop and drink, to ease her parched throat, but she was afraid that if she stopped, she'd drop right then and there. And then there was also no telling if Edgar was around. She flinched at every crunched leaf and snapping branch, waiting to see his eerie white figure stalking her from the shadows. But so far, all that Betty had found around her were the palliative rustles of the forest waking to the coming night.

After a few more minutes stumbling through the forest, Betty noticed what appeared to be a small yellow orb in between the trees ahead of her. She squinted; the warm glow of a small lamp was shining at her. She broke into a faster jog, bounding towards the light as fast as her weakened legs could take her.

Betty rounded on what appeared to be a ranger outpost, the homey orange light coming from a fluorescent lamp over the door. A wooden sign read, "Station 17." She cautiously swung open the front door and found the inside dark and deserted, but the outside light illuminated the inside just enough for Betty to make out a few things around the room. Maps and charts covered the walls and a large transistor board sat on the desk. Betty's heart fluttered as she scrambled over to the radio and picked up the transceiver.

_This must be a communications post_, she thought, which probably put her in some sort of national park or conservation area if they had ranger stations this far into the woods.

She fumbled with the dials and buttons, realizing she'd never actually used a radio like this. She turned one of the knobs and the radio crackled to life.

"Hello? Hello is anyone there?" she called into the transceiver, "My name is Betty Cooper, I need help."

She pulled back and listened to the static. Her eyes moved up to the largest map hanging above the desk as she waited. Blotches of green forest and parks dotted the map, crisscrossed with trails and mountain paths. The bottom corner of the map announced that she was in an area called "Cornwall."

So her suspicions were right, she wasn't in Riverdale. This must be where Edgar had moved The Farm, but she wasn't familiar with the town name. Her eyes drifted further down, reading the smaller location line and her heart nearly skipped a beat.

Ontario.

Her breathing hitched as her mind filled with a new wave of anxiety, a cold tingle running down her back.

She raised the transceiver back to her mouth with a trembling hand and repeated her message. This time a broken hiss spouted across the airwave and a crackly voice rang into the cabin.

"Is someone there? Can you repeat that?"

Betty's eyes widened and her heart leapt at the response. "Yes! Hello! My name is Betty Cooper. I'm from Riverdale. I need help… I was kidnapped and there's a man after me. Help, please!"

"Is that right? Alright, stay calm, kid. What station are you at?"

"Station 17."

"Alright, Betty. Stay put, okay? We'll send someone to get you right away!" the crackly voice assured over the radio.

"Thank you! Oh, thank you," she breathed into the mic. Betty leaned her forehead into the transceiver and let out a deep sigh, a tear running down her cheek.

She was going home.

* * *

Jughead pushed through the large crowd, ignoring all the calls and beckons aimed at him and ambled into the backstage area. He headed to the small group consisting of Archie, Veronica, FP, and, to his confusion, Cheryl.

"Jughead, where have you been?" Veronica chided, shoving a tie into his face. "Put this on."

He shimmied his coat off, hanging it on the back of a chair and folded the tie over his neck. "Sorry, I had some business to attend to," he replied, casting an uneasy glance at FP before shooting Cheryl a confused look.

"I'm singing tonight," Cheryl admonished, "I told you I wanted to do my part."

Archie and Veronica shrugged at him. "Okay…" he said, turning away and looking at his dad. FP gave him a timid smile and wave.

Veronica watched the interaction and anxiously checked her watch. "We have to get started everyone! I'm giving opening remarks, FP will be giving a rundown about tips and the hotline, and then it's all you, Jughead."

Jughead nodded, holding his notes in his teeth as he finished up with his tie. He pulled them away and began wringing the paper as Veronica took the stage. Jughead peeked around the curtain and out into the crowd. He could see Jellybean sitting close to the front. A few rows behind her he could see Mayor McCoy and Tom Keller, along with Pop Tate. Toni, Sweet Pea, and a few others from the Poisons and Serpents lined one of the walls. He grimaced when he saw Kevin leaning against the back wall.

"Welcome everyone, we are so humbled and inspired by all of you here tonight…" he heard as Veronica began the evening.

Jughead pulled away from the curtain and crossed his arms, falling in line with his father.

"Jug, hey, I heard about what happened and I am really sorry," FP whispered. "You have to know, I was just trying to protect you. That's the only reason I didn't tell you."

"I…" Jughead began, deciding his words. "I know. But you could have at least warned me you had other evidence. Finding a concealed file on my half-brothers' computer was not very pleasant."

Archie and Cheryl had shuffled nervously away from them. Archie was fiddling with his guitar and Cheryl was looking aimlessly around the alcove. Jughead could tell they were only pretending not to listen.

FP leaned back against the fly rail and wrapped his thumbs in his belt. He nodded slowly, "Yeah, I can see how bad that probably looked. If you still need to process any of it, I'm here now, okay?"

Jughead blew out his nose and reached a hand into his pant pocket, gingerly wrapping his fingers around the necklace he carried with him. After having that gritty footage replay in his head all weekend, he had to admit that he understood his father's logic. "Why didn't you at least tell me?" His voice came out in a pained whisper, looking up at FP.

FP looked back at Jughead with a sad frown, his face slightly obscured in the dimly lit bay. "There are tough lines to draw in these situations, Jug, especially now that I'm the sheriff. I have to be careful about what is personal and what is professional. And-," he swallowed, "I wanted to actually get the job done as the sheriff this time. I didn't… I didn't want you kids to take everything on and solve it without me. I wanted to do a good job."

Jughead could feel a lump rising in his throat. He fought back the urge to cry and looked at his dad square in the face. "And you are, Dad. You are. I'm so sorry about what I said the other day, I didn't mean it."

FP slowly nodded. "I know. I know." He placed a hand on Jughead's shoulder, "We've both had our selfish moments, but-," he waved his other hand toward the crowd, "from the looks of this here tonight, coming together can result in some amazing things. We need to work as a team from now on, okay?"

Jughead felt tears welling in the corner of his eyes. No, he couldn't get emotional yet. "Yeah, that sounds good, Dad."

FP pulled him in close, and Jughead wrapped his arms around his dad. Space had been good, and he could tell FP thought the same. His dad was really trying and that conversation had gone smoother and easier than he thought.

Jughead could hear the crowd clap and Veronica's voice came back to his ear. "And now, please welcome Sheriff Jones as he walks you through updates into the investigation and how you can help."

FP pulled back but kept a hand on Jughead's shoulder. "I love you, Jug."

"I love you too, Dad," he said as FP walked onstage. Veronica bounced back into the alcove and shuffled over to Archie. The two of them gave him tentative looks. Jughead gave them a small smile and a thumbs up. They smiled in return.

He turned his attention to Cheryl, who had still been absentmindedly staring at the wall. "Cheryl, I'm sorry, too. I'm glad you're helping."

Cheryl looked at him and replied, "Thank you, Jughead. Maybe there really is a heart underneath all that impudence."

Jughead rolled his eyes. Maybe one day he would see some of that true tenderness Toni kept talking about.

He stepped forward and crept to the edge of the curtain to listen to FP speak. He was talking about hotlines and where to hang posters to get the most traffic. He slipped his hand back into his pocket and brushed against the cool metal chain, rubbing it between his fingers.

"Thank you very much. Now, I'd like to invite someone very special out to speak. Jughead Jones is Betty Cooper's boyfriend and he would like to say a few words to you all. Help me welcome my son to the stage."

The crowd clapped loudly as Jughead sauntered toward the podium. FP gave him one last encouraging nod before he vanished back into the bay. Jughead set his crinkled notes down on the podium and swallowed, squinting out at the dark crowd obscured by the bright stage lights. Jellybean gave him a reassuring smile as he began.

"Hello, everyone, I know that you're probably tired of everyone thanking you for coming tonight, but I will again – thank you for managing to pause your binging of the latest episodes of the Bachelor. I know how hard it is to pull away from the suspense of the rose ceremony."

A chuckle coursed through the crowd, and Jughead gave a faint smile. He looked down at his scribbled notes and let a more somber expression form.

"Many of you know my girlfriend and know just how influential she is in this town. Betty is a loyal friend, a caring daughter, and a brilliant writer, and I wish the story that we have to bring you tonight was happier, but unfortunately, it's not. Today is October 28th - ten days ago, late on Friday, October 18th, she was abducted right here in Riverdale and so far we have no leads and no direction." Jughead glanced to the side stage and caught Veronica and Archie's eyes. They both had red faces, and no doubt were attempting to hold back tears.

"About 2 years ago, Betty stood on this stage and reminded us of what Riverdale was all about. Of the people that made up Riverdale. But there was one person she forgot to mention and that was herself. Betty Cooper is Riverdale. She's been on the frontlines fighting for this town and for the truth ever since it began spiraling into calamity." He swept his gaze slowly across the room, attempting to make eye contact with distinct persons in the audience. Toni gave a sympathetic smile while Sweet Pea raised a fist in solidarity toward him. Jellybean beamed up at him, as did a few other students scattered around the room, but Kevin ducked his head as soon as Jughead made eye contact. He felt a small tic pull at the side of his mouth.

"Tonight I'm asking that we take up the fight and carry the banner for her. To all of you here, first, I again say thank you, and second, I urge each of you to join me in the fight for hope and justice. To not just walk away and go back to our everyday routine of inobservance, but to keep a candle burning and stay vigilant."

He drew in a deep breath and continued, "Unfortunately, Betty couldn't have any familial representatives here, so I ask that we can all become her family tonight. A community united in the charge to bring one of their own home."

Jughead watched Kevin run a hand through his hair and scurry toward the exit. Tom Keller noticed as well and was wading through the seats to catch up to his son.

"And to Betty, wherever you are, this is a promise - we will find whoever did this, and we will bring you home. Keep holding on."

Jughead pulled away from the podium as a small stream of tears escaped his eyes. The room stood and erupted into applause. Veronica and Archie wrapped him in a hug as he entered the side stage.

"She'd be so proud of you," Veronica quietly acknowledged, pulling away.

"Thank you, Veronica." Jughead smiled between the two friends. "Both of you, thank you for setting this up."

He turned and looked back out on the stage, to the large picture of Betty smiling back at him. His hand shifted to his pocket. "She'd be proud of all of us."

* * *

Jughead grabbed a small tray of sliders and proceeded to hang in the back of the room, watching Archie take the stage from a distance. He had left backstage to try to find Kevin and see what was going on, but both the Keller men had disappeared. So he decided to just hang in the back, surrounding himself with the comforts of Pop's and a moment of silence, hoping that his retreat encouraged people to pay attention to Archie's words now instead of trying to gobsmack him with encouragements and consolations.

"That was a very heartfelt and inspiring speech, young man," a chipper voice called out.

So much for that moment of silence.

Jughead turned to find a tall man with glasses standing nearby, hovering by the food table. "Do you recommend the sliders?"

"Uhh, yeah, they're pretty good," Jughead stammered, casting a quizzical look at the man. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"Indirectly." The man gave Jughead a warm smile and reached out a hand. "Hello, Jughead. My name is Michael Glass. I'm Betty's therapist."

Oh.

Jughead gently set down his tray, wiping his hands quickly on his pants before reaching out for a handshake. "Nice to meet you, Dr. Glass. Betty has said good things about you. Thank you for helping her."

Dr. Glass nodded. "I'm sincerely sorry about everything that has happened. Betty has already lived through so much, I'm afraid we'll have to take a few steps back when she comes back to sessions."

Jughead perked his head up and drew in a shaky breath. This was the first time someone other than his friends had really acted as if Betty was coming back. "You think she's okay? That she's coming back?"

"Very much." He smiled, leaning beside Jughead. "She's very strong. If anyone can find their way back home, it's her."

"Aren't you, like, not allowed to talk about clients? You know doctor-patient confidentiality and all that?" Jughead raised an eyebrow, although he truthfully was curious as to what knowledge Dr. Glass had about Betty.

"I can't talk about what happens in sessions, but it's no secret Betty has a lot of strength and courage. And it's evident she loves you very much."

It felt as though Jughead's heart was twisting in his chest. He suddenly felt the surge of a sob jumping into his throat but coughed it back. "The last thing she said to me was not to worry about her, and I didn't, and that led to us being completely oblivious to the fact that she was missing. How is that loving?"

Dr. Glass gave Jughead a sympathetic look. "Jughead, do not blame yourself. There's only one person to blame and that's whoever did this to her. We have to accept that we can't control everything in our lives, so don't try to place fault on yourself."

Jughead turned his eyes away from Dr. Glass, a mixture of anger and sadness bubbling behind them. He could see Dr. Glass shuffling his hand in his pocket.

"Here." He handed Jughead a business card. "In case you ever need a safe place to talk."

Jughead took the card and flipped it in his hand. "Thank you," he said quietly. Dr. Glass started walking back into the crowd.

"And Jughead-," he turned around briefly, "this is a wonderful thing to do for Betty. Trust that she is fighting her own battles. You can't fight them all for her." With that, he walked away.

Jughead could feel his hands start to shake and he quickly shoved them into his pockets. He turned to the stage just as Archie was stepping up to the mic.

"Once again, thank you so much, everyone, for coming out tonight, it means a lot to us, and we know it means so much to Betty. Remember that if you have any information, or see anything unusual, please report it to the police." He smiled and looked directly at Jughead. "We have one last song for you all. And in the spirit of what Jughead said earlier, we encourage everyone to keep holding on. This one is for you, Betty!"

Archie stepped back and shot a quick glance at Cheryl and the Pussycats behind him. He strummed a slow melody on his guitar and sang into the microphone:

"_You're not alone, together we stand, I'll be by your side, you know I'll take your hand…"_

Jughead drank in a deep breath and felt someone walk up beside him. FP and Veronica were flanking him on either side.

"_And when it gets cold, and it feels like the end, there's no place to go, you know I won't give in, no, I won't give in."_

Betty sat anxiously on the chair in front of the desk. She shivered and shoved her hands into her jacket pockets. She was surprised when one of her hands wrapped around something plastic. She pulled out an FBI badge, a small tear rolling down her cheek. Her breath caught in her throat as a barrage of thoughts tumbled through her mind.

She was going home. Someone finally knew she was out here. She coughed a strangled laugh. And once the police got here, she would call her brother and find her mom - she had to be close to The Farm. She'd get her mom back, maybe Polly - her family would be reunited and they would go home together. She would sleep and eat properly. She would see Archie and Veronica. She would see Jughead. She smiled and laughed. Finally, the nightmare would be over.

She quickly shoved the badge back into her pocket and turned her head as two flashlight beams came into view outside the station window. Betty rose from the chair, dropping the transceiver onto the desk.

"Hello?" she called as the door swung open. "Oh! Thank you so muc-," The words caught in her throat as she took in the two men standing in front of her. They were both dressed in all-white outfits with exaggerated smiles across their faces. One held a walkie-talkie in his hand.

"No… no," Betty whispered as her eyes grew wide and her heart froze.

"_So far away, I wish you were here, before it's too late, this could all disappear."_

"We're here to get you, Ms. Cooper. Mr. Evernever wasn't too happy when he heard you were out. Don't you know not to go into the woods after dark?" One chided as he reached out strong arms toward her.

She panicked and looked around the small outpost. There was nowhere to go, the two men were blocking the doorway. She frantically grabbed for the chair but felt a hand wrap around her ankle and jerk, knocking her to the ground.

"_Keep holding on 'cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through"_

Betty scraped desperately at the floor, her nails digging shallow grooves into the wood, but there was nothing to hold onto. She kicked her legs wildly, but the man's grasp on her ankle was too firm and she couldn't make a connection. The black spots had returned to her vision and all she could think to do was scream at the top of her lungs.

"_Just stay strong 'cause you know I'm here for you,"_

Archie closed his eyes as he belted out the chorus. His song drifted over the crowd, and Jughead could feel tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. FP slung an arm over his shoulder and pulled him close.

"_I'm here for you."_

"Now, now, kid. There's no need for that. We're taking you home, that's all." The other man soothed as he grabbed Betty and slung her over his shoulder. She tried pounding on his back, but it was no use; he was too strong and she was too tired. The men trudged out of the outpost and began walking back up the bank of the stream, back toward the cabin. Betty whimpered and watched through swimming eyes as the outpost, and any chance of freedom bounced out of sight.

"_Nothing's gonna change, nothing's gonna change destiny, whatever's meant to be will work out perfectly. Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!"_

The men threw her down roughly outside of the cabin. She held out her arms, but the world spun as she landed brusquely on the ground. Through her spinning vision, she could see two shoes planted in front of her. She looked up.

"Betty, we were making such good progress." Edgar was glaring down at her. "I've told you, you can't run away from your destiny. It'll only keep finding ways to drag you kicking and screaming back into its control." He looked up at the two men above Betty. "Get her back inside and restrain her while I deal with everything she broke."

Betty let out a faint cry as a set of arms wrapped around her once more, dragging her back to her feet. As she was pulled past, Betty looked at Edgar; he had thrilled malice hanging behind his blue glare. She quivered through her pressing fatigue. There was no playing along anymore. There was not any modicum of control left. She was completely and utterly at the mercy of her enemy now.

"_So keep holding on 'cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through."_

Archie pulled away from the microphone as he finished the song, his face red. He and Cheryl exchanged small smiles as the crowd cheered. Veronica placed a hand on Jughead's shoulder and he looked over; she was crying too, and that made three as he could feel his tears release as well.

_Please keep holding on, Betty. _Jughead thought as Archie climbed down from the stage. Dr. Glass's counsel rang in his ears. _Keep fighting until we get there._ _We're fighting from afar._

People began rising from their seats and making their way to various exits when a deputy strode up to the podium and tapped the mic. Jughead looked over at FP and Veronica, but both of them looked confused as well.

"Hello, everyone!" the deputy spoke into the microphone, "So sorry, I know that we're finishing up, but we just got word that Riverdale PD received two generous donations to put towards Ms. Cooper's case!"

FP gawked and gave a singular hearty clap. Jughead looked over at Veronica who returned his surprised stare.

"One of the donors wished to remain anonymous…" the deputy's voice began to fall to the back of Jughead's mind.

He looked around the room to see where Archie went and glanced toward the door, his eyes instead falling on someone else entirely. "Wait, what…?"

He said it louder than he had anticipated and FP stepped next to him. "What is it, Jug?" His dad followed his gaze and let out a startled gasp. "No… geez, not now."

"There are my two favorite boys!" Gladys called as she strolled over to Jughead and FP.

"Mom?" Jughead balked, the shock mixing with his already heightened emotions.

"Mom?" Veronica hesitantly echoed Jughead's surprised question. She stayed a few feet behind him.

Jughead felt frozen on the spot. He just stared blankly at his mother with his mouth agape.

"And the second donation comes from Lodge Detention Center. Both donations will aid us in acquiring more time and manpower to put toward the open investigation, as well as provide updated equipment for the police station!" The deputy's words barely registered in Jughead's mind, but he heard a name, and now turned on Veronica.

She looked baffled, and her eyes darted between Jughead, Gladys, and the crowd. FP was still staring at Gladys and Jughead decided to turn his attention to the floor. His mind was swept up in the rapids, all of the anger and confusion that had melted away earlier now rejoining the flood. And unfortunately, all the peace and optimism he had gained was sinking under the weight of what looked like a whole new set of problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. Sorry that I pulled all my characters – and probably you all – through the wringer of emotions with these last two chapters. But also not sorry. 
> 
> I’m trying to take care of them, but they have found themselves in some precarious situations, here. 
> 
> If you’re interested, the song at the end is Avril Lavigne’s “Keep Holding On,” (I highly enjoy the Glee version, too!) If you listen to the song while reading, it adds even more depth in my opinion.
> 
> Anyway, thank you all for sticking with me through this story! Comments always encouraged.


	10. Graveyard Shift

Jughead breathed in and out and slowly raised his head toward the circle of confounded people around him. Veronica and FP were standing frozen in place and Gladys had a playful smile on her face. He looked between Veronica and his mom, unsure of who to address first, but someone beat him to it.

"Mom!" Jellybean yelled excitedly as she darted toward them and into Gladys' arms.

"Hey there, kiddo," Gladys said, returning the hug. "Look at you, you're getting so big!"

Jughead shook himself out of his stupor and glared at his mother. "Are we just going to pretend that everything that just happened is normal? Because a lot just happened. Why are you here?"

Gladys gave Jughead a sympathetic frown. "I really wasn't planning on coming back yet, but I heard about Betty and thought I would help out."

"The anonymous donation… that was you?" FP gawked.

She gave a modest shrug and laid a gentle hand on Jughead's shoulder. "I thought you might need a mom," she said in a quiet voice.

"I-," Jughead paused. He wasn't sure what to say. He had wanted his mom to come back, he missed her, but under the right circumstances. He couldn't imagine these being the right circumstances, especially since the past few times her name had been anonymously attached to money, there had also been strings attached.

"I'm grateful, but I can't help but be wary of your timing unless all you wanted was a dramatic entrance since I know you're so fond of those," he responded, a layer of sarcasm covering his suspicious tone.

"And one last note – the Lodge Detention Center is also currently hiring prison guard and other security personnel positions. Have a good night everyone!" The deputy cheerily called into the mic. Jughead had almost forgotten what was happening around them, but he suddenly turned his attention to Veronica, who was still apprehensively hanging behind Jughead.

"Do you know anything about that?" he probed. Veronica looked truly bewildered, and she recoiled slightly when he rounded on her.

She pursed her lips. "Jughead, I swear I don't know what's going on. He had nothing to do with Betty's disappearance, I promise. When I talked to him, he didn't know-,"

"You talked to him?" Jughead balked, taking a step back, "When? Why didn't you tell me?"

She sagged her shoulders. "A few days ago. I wanted to ask him about Chic."

Just then, Archie came bounding up, his mollified smile wiping off his face as he noticed the odd group. "What's going on?"

"Apparently Veronica talked to her dad and got the all-clear that he wasn't involved with Betty, yet she has no idea why he would donate tonight," Jughead retorted irritably, throwing a vindictive look her way.

"Hey, Jug, don't blame her! This isn't her fault!" Archie stepped in front of Veronica defensively. Veronica frowned, pushing him slightly as she stepped next to him. "I believe her. Hiram may be up to something from what she's told me, but it has nothing-," Archie's eyes widened, realizing what he had said.

"What? You knew, too?" Jughead's heart sank. "You've been keeping this from me?"

"Oh, Princess, still stepping in places you shouldn't?" Gladys jested.

"Gladys! Stay out of this," FP warned, raising his hands and jumping in between her and the teens. Veronica grimaced at Gladys over FP's arm.

Archie stepped forward. "Jughead, once we concluded that Veronica's father had nothing to do with Betty, we didn't feel like you needed to know anything else. I mean really, not everything in this town is your business."

Jughead stared at his two friends, their expressions a mixture of defensiveness and guilt. "We all agreed no more secrets," he said in a firm voice.

"God, Jughead!" Archie's eyes flashed and he suddenly scowled, "We've been walking on eggshells for you for the past two weeks. All you've cared about is yourself! When will you learn you aren't the only one in all of this?"

Jughead snorted. "I don't think that."

"Oh yeah? You could have fooled me. Every time you mention something, it's always 'I' and 'me.' It's _us, _Jughead! Us and we!" Archie snapped back.

"We put this whole thing together for you as much as we did for Betty!" Veronica retorted before Jughead could answer. "And you still have the audacity to believe that you're the only one who can have feelings through all this? That the rest of us have to bend to you?"

"No!"

Archie scoffed, "You say no more secrets, and we've all given you grace, but I know you have more information than you are telling us. I know how you work; you still think you need to do the investigation on your own."

Jughead looked at the ground, the torrent in his chest frothing.

"Jughead?" FP's voice sounded. "Is that true?"

He snapped his head back up and stared at his dad. FP looked concernedly back at him, his hands on his hips.

"It's just theories, not information. You're the one who told me to make a crime board."

"Still, it's practically been the Jughead show since Betty went missing. We have lives, too!" Archie stretched his arms out. Veronica nodded in approval at his words. "Don't blindly point fingers at us! Not when we've just been trying to help this whole time."

"Calm down, everyone!" FP's tone had grown a bit sharper. "What did I just say about needing to work together? I thought you were working stuff out this weekend, Jug."

"Apparently not enough," Jughead griped.

"Maybe we should just leave you alone to the investigation after all, since that's what you want," Veronica angrily grumbled, crossing her arms and stepping in front of Archie.

Jughead grimaced back, "Yeah, maybe you should." He turned away from them.

"Everything okay, here?" Charles appeared next to Veronica with a concerned face and his hands folded behind his back.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," FP mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck with both hands.

Gladys raised an eyebrow and shifted her weight to one side. "And who's this handsome devil?" she said, eyeing Charles.

Jughead whirled around, gaping at his mother. A strangled gargle came from Veronica and everyone else in the group – including Jellybean – turned to Gladys with staggered expressions.

"What?" she asked, staring quizzically back.

FP stepped forward and blew a relented sigh. "Gladys, this is Charles. He's an FBI agent stationed here in town. Charles, this is my, uh… wife, Gladys."

Charles stepped forward, an almost contentious look spreading across his face, and reached out a hand.

"Hello, Gladys, I'm Charles Smith. FP's son."

Jughead hadn't seen Charles get so feisty before; his answer was so belligerent that, if Jughead wasn't so heated, he would've laughed. Gladys had her mouth open, shifting her eyes between Charles and FP.

Jughead made eye contact with FP, who was giving him a 'we need to leave' look. Jughead nodded, very much wanting to leave.

"Son…?" Gladys was narrowing her eyes and slowly crossing her arms. "Charles _Smith_?" she uttered, an emphasis on Smith.

"Yes," said FP sternly, starting to usher everyone out of the room. "And we can talk all about it. _At home." _

Jughead began trotting away, but FP grabbed his arm. "Nh-uh, no running off. We are _all _going home to talk, we can come back and pick up your bike tomorrow. That also includes you." FP added, pushing a startled Charles toward the door.

Jughead turned over his shoulder as he walked out of the town hall, shooting Archie and Veronica one last furious glance. They stood glaring back, slowly falling away amongst the leaving crowd.

* * *

"Well, that was quite the powder keg back there," commented Gladys, sauntering into the house behind an irate Jughead. She plopped herself down on the couch, swinging an arm over Jellybean. FP ushered an uncomfortable Charles into the living room and shut the door behind him.

Jughead rolled his eyes and threw himself down in an armchair.

"JB, head upstairs, you don't need to hear all of this." FP motioned toward the staircase.

Jellybean crossed her arms and turned to Gladys, then she looked back at FP with a stubborn frown. "You said we were _all _going to talk. I'm part of this family." Gladys smiled at FP.

FP sighed and stood with his hands on his hips in the middle of the room. "Fine. I guess I did say that." He turned to Jughead, "What was that back there, Jughead? I thought everything was fine between you three?"

"I thought so too, but that was before Veronica and Archie decided to withhold information from me after making a promise."

"But they had good reasoning. Veronica said that Hiram isn't connected to Betty! She was just making a decision to keep part of her personal life just that – personal."

Jughead glared up at his dad, pushing aside a falling piece of hair. "But Hiram is still connected to Chic, which still makes him a connection to Betty."

FP threw up his hands, "Jug! Listen to yourself! Why do you still insist on keeping all the cards in play when you know that some won't win you the hand? We are trying to _narrow _the investigation."

"But we still don't know anything, Dad! We pretty much have nothing! I have to stay suspicious. It may be the only thing that brings Betty back."

"My donation might help with that," Gladys added. FP and Jughead both glared at her.

"Just like your suspicion of me?" Charles piped up. He was leaning against one of the doorposts, watching intently. His shoulders were tense and upright.

Jughead cocked his head. "What?"

"Just like how your suspicion of me is somehow helping Betty?" Charles repeated. "I knew you didn't trust me even before the security footage incident."

Jughead stared down at his feet. "Guess my cover's blown."

"It was blown before you even got to the Sisters." He managed a small smile. "But in all seriousness, remaining wary and suspicious of everyone doesn't help in these situations. Maybe you've been able to solve things that way before, but if you asked me, all I've seen it do is tear you apart."

"Well, good thing no one asked you," Gladys retorted back, raising a hand toward Jughead as he opened his mouth. "Why are you here, anyway?"

"Gladys, he's an FBI agent. He's part of the team investigating The Farm," FP said, looking directly at Gladys.

"And the whole, 'I'm FP's son' part?" Gladys asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

"That's true, too," FP answered, taking his turn to stare down at his feet.

"Guess that makes you my step-mom," Charles goaded, stepping further into the living room.

"Guess that makes you a bastard, Charles _Smith_," Gladys hissed back, venom on her tongue.

"Uhh, maybe I don't need to be here for this," Jellybean chimed in, rising from the couch. Jughead stood too.

"Stop it, Gladys! We'll discuss that later. Right now, maybe the kids _should_ head upstairs." Jellybean and Jughead, and Charles, all headed to the stairs. "Eh, not you, Charles."

Charles turned back around and shrugged. "Worth a shot."

"And Jughead," FP called. Jughead swung his head towards his father. "What Charles said is true. I think you may need to back off the investigation for now." Jughead's eyes flashed and he opened his mouth to argue, but FP cut him off. "No, no arguments with this one. I asked you to clear your head all those days ago, and I don't think you ever did. Seriously, take an actual break from this and let the station do its job."

Jughead grimaced and trudged up the stairs loudly. When he reached the doorway to his bedroom, he stopped. His gaze wandered over the dark silhouettes of the furniture lining the walls and landed on the window. Through the glass was the still-flickering streetlight. He let that light flood his vision and take over his mind, its flashes seeping into the corners of his confused and battered thoughts. And then it suddenly stopped, leaving only a faint wisp of dying light in the glass case. And Jughead dropped to his knees, letting out a silent, strangled scream.

* * *

Archie tramped through his front door, throwing his guitar case down and collapsing on the couch. Veronica sat next to him.

"So much for that night being perfect," Veronica grumbled. "Again."

Suddenly they heard the lock to the front door click and both stood tentatively as the door creaked open.

"Mom!" Archie exclaimed as Mary Andrews walked into the foyer.

"Archie!" She wrapped her son in a tight embrace. "Oh, I'm so sorry I had to leave you alone with everything that's been going on, there's just some paperwork that has to be done in person. I tried to get back in time for the rally, but my flight was delayed." Mary pulled away and rubbed Archie's arm.

"It's okay, Mrs. Andrews, it might be a good thing you missed it. It kind of… blew up at the end," Veronica said, walking into the foyer.

Mary looked at Archie.

"We kind of got in a pretty heated fight with Jughead." Archie rubbed his neck and headed back to the couch. "He pretty much stepped into it, though. We've been focusing so much on keeping him steady, that, well, we've been ignoring our own feelings and they all just kind of came out tonight."

"It didn't help that Gladys Jones showed up out of nowhere and my dad donated money out of the blue to the cause," Veronica scoffed.

Mary looked between the two, bewilderment on her face. "Okay, you two really need to catch me up."

"I will, Mom, but, not tonight. I'm pretty wiped. I think I need to sleep everything off."

Veronica nodded. "Me too, I'm going to head home. Maybe we do need to focus on some of our own issues first, Archiekins." She planted a kiss on his forehead. "See you at school. And so nice to see you again, Mrs. Andrews."

"You too, Veronica! Have a good night." Mary called as Veronica headed out the door. Once Veronica's car pulled away, Mary turned to Archie.

"A lot going on all at once, huh, kid?"

"Too much." Archie leaned back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "But, I'm really glad you're here. I just… I just need someone. I really wish Dad were here." Archie pulled himself closer to his mom, dropping his head on her lap, suddenly feeling the weight of his fatigue.

She frowned and rubbed his shoulder. "I know, Archie. I know. I miss him too."

The two sat there in silence for a few minutes. Tears were rolling down Archie's face as Mary continued to stroke his shoulder.

"You shouldn't have to be caught up in so much at this age," Mary broke the silence. "I'm so sorry, Archie. How about you take a few days to rest, hmm? Have you done much real resting lately?"

Archie straightened himself up. "No, I don't think any of us have. I mean, I think we've all got it in our heads that if Betty can't rest, we shouldn't either." His heart began twisting again.

Mary frowned. "I know you want to do everything you can for her, but the best thing you can do right now is to rest and calm down from everything going on. A little bit of clarity can go a long way."

Archie nodded and rose from the couch. He headed toward the staircase. "Do you want to see the Community Center, soon? You haven't seen it since it opened."

"Of course, Archie! I would love to see the new Andrews Community Center." She beamed.

"Cool. We're having a Halloween party there in a few days, I'll take you then." He started scaling the stairs toward his bedroom, then quickly turned around and wrapped Mary in another tight hug. "I'm really glad you're back, Mom."

* * *

Jughead sat on the edge of his bed. Jellybean had gone to bed, and he had heard the front door open some time ago, signaling that Charles had finally been relieved of the impromptu family talk, and most of the house had grown quiet.

But there was still a light on downstairs, its faint glow trickling up the open staircase. Jughead quietly tiptoed down the first flight of steps and stood on the landing, just out of sight of his parents.

"I told you earlier that I was trying to come back," he could hear Gladys saying. "I wanted to come back, for JB and Jughead!"

"I know, I know," FP said. Both of them were talking quietly, but Jughead could still hear the raised tension in their voices. "And I appreciate the donation to the police station, I really do but you should have given us a warning instead of just showing up."

"Why? So you could hide away your surprise son?" Gladys jeered. "How long have you known?"

FP sighed, "Since the end of last school year. He showed up right after The Farm high-tailed it out of Riverdale."

"You've known that long?" Gladys hissed. "Why wouldn't you tell me?"

"Gladys, I didn't even know he was alive. It took me a while to process it myself. And then we started working together on The Farm's case, and I just kind of lost track of everything."

The room below had grown silent and Jughead shifted his weight between his feet, leaning in closer.

"Is that the only reason?" Gladys eventually asked. "I mean, seeing him and pushing to work on a case to find The Farm when you were barely involved with it while they were still here? Answer me honestly, FP. Do you still have a thing for Alice?"

Jughead peeked around the corner. FP and Gladys were sitting across from each other in the living room, a small fire crackling in the fireplace between them. The orange light danced across both of their solemn faces as they stared at each other. FP let out a long sigh and cast his eyes toward the floor.

Gladys bobbed her head. "I get it. Distance makes the heart grow fonder."

Jughead leaned back into the shadows and pressed his weight against the banister. He curled his fists together and stared at the moon that was shining through the small window on the landing, swallowing down a lump in his throat. Those words held meaning for more than just his dad.

"You can have the bed," FP said quietly, "I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

A shuffling came from the living room and Jughead slowly crept back up the stairs. He sighed; some things never change.

* * *

Nothing had changed. Three days had passed and nothing had changed.

After that night, Betty had been led back into the cabin and guarded by the two Farm creeps while Edgar had installed a new lock. And then they had just left. Without a word. He left the matches, he left the plates, and he left her with her ripped-up bed. Food still came. She had a feeling that Edgar was almost pleased now that she knew she was surrounded, and that the fear was enough to keep Betty from attempting another escape.

And he was right. No one actually knew where she was. There was no one coming. She wasn't just in another town or state but in another country. It was useless to try to run again while out here.

So Betty sat and waited. She didn't know what else to do.

She sat on the floor, leaning up against the bed, staring at the FBI badge she held in one hand, the wood chip in her other.

There was a tension pulling at her, some formless anxiety that she couldn't quite place. It was like trying to see a shadow at the edge of her sight; every time she tried to focus on it, it disappeared. But she knew it was there because she could feel something pressing inside, like water pushing up against a growing fissure in a concrete wall, and she wondered when and how the dam would break.

Betty lifted herself to her feet and pushed the badge into her jacket pocket. She dropped the pick onto the nightstand and grabbed the blanket, wrapping it around herself as she laid down on the bed, her body sinking into the indent above the ripped cavity. She groaned and rolled over, arching her body diagonally on the bed to avoid the uncomfortable dip.

Betty closed her eyes and tucked herself deeper into the blanket, hoping to find some much-needed sleep under the protection of the shimmering daylight.

* * *

_The mighty hunters, bruised and battered by their quest, now found themselves at each other's throats, and I found myself in a self-inflicted banishment. The players were divided, the board in disarray and something told me this was all a deliberate part of the game. The game of shadows that we were so enslaved to, yet still so clueless toward, despite how long we had been playing. The ouroboros was slithering its way out of the shadows, a cold laugh escaping its dripping lips as we ironically chased our own tails._

Jughead sat at the kitchen counter in his pajamas, his hair messy and tousled. A steaming mug of coffee sat next to his open laptop. Warm morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen and living room windows, bathing Jughead in a conjunction of golden beams. He lifted his fingers from the keyboard and drank in the warmth.

Just then, FP groaned and shifted upward on the couch, his messy hair hanging in front of his face, almost matching Jugheads'. He let out a large yawn and rubbed his eyes as he slinked into the kitchen.

"Morning, sunshine," Jughead murmured as his father fumbled with the coffee maker.

FP pushed his hair back and grunted in response.

Jughead stared back down at his laptop, but couldn't help but notice how groggy his father was. He thought he would take advantage of that.

"Hey, Dad, can I stay home from school today?"

FP stared back with a glossy look on his face and brought his mug to his lips, giving Jughead a small nod and another grunt.

Jughead smirked. So far so good.

"Listen, since you're out on patrol late tonight, I was thinking that I could, you know, take over some of your other responsibilities, like helping out with Betty's case."

"Sure," FP said through another stifling yawn. Jughead smiled and took a swig of his own coffee.

The gloss over FP's eyes suddenly evaporated and he placed his mug sharply on the counter. "Wait, no! Boy, stop with the funny business."

"Hey, see, right there! You acknowledged I'm making jokes again. Isn't that progress enough?" Jughead argued. "We just talked about working together, why rescind that so quickly?"

"I'm not going back on what I said, we _should_ be working together. But we _both _have to be in the right headspace. And you need to start trusting the officers to do their job, I can't keep letting you and the others take charge."

"Ah, so it's just peer pressure from the station keeping me away. Awesome. How high school of you," Jughead snorted.

"No," FP walked over and stood over him. "Like I said, personal and professional. I'm really working to draw that line. I'm _not _leaving you in the dark, but I need to make sure my son is safe, and that means from himself, too."

Jughead snapped his head up and stared at his dad. FP's face was serious, but also gentle. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Jug, if you could see yourself, you would see that you really are tearing yourself up. I need you to be healthy, son. I need you to take care of yourself. If you can't help yourself, then you can't help Betty."

Jughead balked and lowered his eyes. How was spending time on himself supposed to help Betty? She had been at the mercy of her kidnapper for two weeks now, how was more time supposed to help? But – another thought crossing his mind – what if his impulsiveness _was _what was holding the investigation back? Everyone having to temper themselves and humor his erratic theories?

"Besides," FP cut through his wandering thoughts, "The hotline we set up is already getting hits."

Jughead perked up.

"So far just things we already know-," FP raised a hand, "but it means it's working. You should really thank Archie and Veronica for setting up that rally." FP raised an eyebrow and finished off his coffee.

Jughead snorted. "Once they apologize."

FP sighed and walked back into the living room. "Well, then definitely still no police time for you. And you are definitely not skipping school. And since I work tonight, that means you can hand out the candy."

He smiled and turned away from Jughead. "What a night to have a graveyard shift."

Jughead sighed and turned back to his laptop. "Wonderful," he grumbled.

_Although his words were offhand, my dad was right - what a night was coming, because for every bright morning there came a dark night. And tonight we would find ourselves veiled under the darkest of nights - Halloween. A night where spirits roam freely over the land and when nightmares themselves seem to abandon the immaterial. And, call me superstitious, but I felt a bad moon arising._

* * *

Black and orange decorations lined the front doors of the community center as Archie and Mary Andrews strolled inside. They were immediately greeted by a crowd of families running around in Halloween costumes. Mad Dog was manning a table full of candy as the two walked up.

"A werewolf? Really?" Archie jested, seeing Mad Dog's face paint and clawed hands.

"Uh, yeah. Werewolves are cool," Mad Dog fired back. "Didn't you dress up?"

Archie pulled back his jacket, revealing a shirt emblazoned with a lightning bolt.

"Oh, nice! Kid Flash!"

Archie frowned. "No, man. _The _Flash!"

"But the red hair! You'd be a perfect Wally West." Mad Dog smiled at Archie's look of irritation. Then he noticed Mary. "Mrs. Andrews! It's so nice to see you!"

Mary and Mad Dog hugged. "You too, Mad Dog. Archie's finally showing me around, now that I'm back in Riverdale."

"Well, as you can see, we're pretty packed tonight. A lot of kids don't have the safest trick-or-treating areas or have anyone to take them, so we brought the fun to them! We've got some games starting up soon, and food and drinks are in the student lounge. Have fun!" Mad Dog gave them a fanged grin.

"Thanks, I'm sure we'll join in the festivities soon, but Archie, I want to see the new space first!"

"For sure. See you later, Mad Dog!" Archie called as he began to usher his mom away from the main hall.

"And if you happen to see a Spider-Man around, tell him his brother wants to try him at bobbing for apples!"

Archie laughed. "You got it!" He steered his mom away and toward the gym.

"Well, you certainly seem more cheery today!" Mary said, walking alongside Archie as they toured.

Archie nodded. "It's hard to be upset here. Not when you can see so much joy in all those kids' eyes. I know I'm at least doing something right." His eyes dropped and he slipped his hands into his pockets.

Mary grabbed his arm. "Hey, you can only do so much right now. Jughead has to come to that conclusion himself. As long as you do your part, that's all you can do." They rounded into the office and Mary gasped. "Oh, Archie, look at this! This is so much nicer than when I was last here."

Archie gave a small smile toward Mary's compliment, but he was still lost in thought. He and Jughead had avoided each other for the last three days of school. Just today, they had been heading down the hall toward each other and Jughead had walked directly into a crowd of Bulldogs and Vixens just so he could avoid eye contact. But Archie was the one waiting for an apology this time instead of trying to pander to Jughead's temper.

"Archie."

He looked over at his mom, pulling out of his head. Mary was looking at him with a smile but sad eyes. "He'd be so proud of you."

Archie felt a familiar lump rise in his throat. "You think so?"

"I know so." Mary wrapped her son in a hug.

_Crash! _Their moment was interrupted by shattering glass and a heavy thud. Archie jumped and looked down, nearly tripping over what skidded near his shoes.

Another brick.

Archie whipped his eyes toward the broken window and saw a flash of movement. He sprinted out of the office, his mom faintly calling after him. Archie barreled out of the side door and looked wildly around the dark parking lot. Someone in a black sweatshirt was running away from the center.

"Hey!" Archie yelled, falling in step behind them. "Stop!"

Archie caught up easily and was ready to tackle them when he noticed they were much smaller than him. Instead, he grabbed their arm and spun them around, knocking off their hood. Archie took a small step back. It was just a kid.

"Why did you throw that brick?" Archie gasped, pulling in a breath. The kid looked terrified. His face was turned up in a pained wince and Archie pulled his hand away, realizing he had been squeezing the kids' arm too hard. He swallowed and asked again, "Did you throw the brick?"

The kid scrunched up his face and nodded slowly. Archie knit his brow and frowned. After all this time, it really was just a punk kid. He had spent so much time thinking it was deeper, more personal. He swallowed. That must be how Jughead had been feeling about everything.

Archie crouched down. "Hey, hey," he soothed, "I'm-I'm not mad. I just want to know why."

"It's not fair, I don't want to see all this," the kid motioned his head toward the center, "not when my mom is gone and my dad doesn't care about me."

Archie's heart sank. He had to have been no more than twelve, and it looked like he was trying not to cry - like he didn't want to cry in front of someone. "What's your name?"

The boy sniffled. "TJ."

"Well, TJ, you said your mom is gone? My dad is gone." TJ looked up into Archie's eyes. Archie gave him a sympathetic smile. "It's cold out here, do you want to come inside? We have hot chocolate."

TJ looked around warily. "Are-are you sure?"

Archie nodded. "I'm sure, I just want to talk some more."

TJ's eyes grew wide. "You won't tell my dad, will you? About the window?"

Archie shook his head. "No, I won't tell your dad. Come on," Archie stood up and held a hand out to TJ. "Come and meet my mom."

* * *

"Trick or treat!"

"Aww, look at you! Such a cute ghost," Toni cooed as she passed candy to the young trick-or-treater. "Have a Happy Halloween!"

The little ghost ran off and Toni closed the door to Thistle House, dropping the candy bowl back on the side table next to the door. She groaned and sauntered back to the living room. "Hopefully that's the last one. Who knew so many kids would face Riverdale's equivalent of a haunted house just for an extra piece of candy?"

Cheryl smiled as Toni lowered herself onto the couch. "Well, TT, tonight is the night to be daring. A haunted house fits right in." She took one of Toni's hands. "But now that it's getting late, I think it's time Harley and Ivy do some trick-or-treating of their own." She grinned as she twisted one of Toni's pigtails in her other hand.

Toni grinned back, "I'd like that," she leaned in for a kiss, "but first, can we talk about why you've been so distant lately?"

Cheryl pulled away. "What do you mean?"

Toni rolled her eyes and adjusted her jacket. "Come on, Cheryl, don't think I haven't noticed you disappearing every now and then."

"I'm just really worked up over everything with Betty. I've been trying to put more time into helping with that," Cheryl responded.

"Cheryl, I know that's part of it, but it almost feels like you've been trying to avoid me. I mean when I asked you about this the other day, you went running off to 'help' with the rally." Toni pouted her lip and looked at her girlfriend with concern. "I thought we cleared all the skeletons out of the closet, what's going on? You have a body in there now?"

Cheryl bit her lip and looked away. Toni's eyes widened and she sprang up from the couch. "Cheryl! I was joking!"

Cheryl pulled herself off the couch as well, her green dress flowing. "TT, it's not what it sounds like-,"

"I was being metaphorical!" Toni yelled as she put her hands to her head. "Please tell me you're being metaphorical."

Cheryl didn't make eye contact.

"Who is it?" Toni whispered, "Oh my god, did you kill someone? It's not your mom, is it?" Toni began to frantically pace around the room. "Oh my god, I'm dating Norman Bates."

"No! I didn't kill anyone." Cheryl rushed over to Toni and grabbed her shoulders. "Please hear me out." She looked pleadingly into Toni's eyes. "It's JJ."

Toni gaped at her girlfriend.

"Please say something," Cheryl begged.

Toni kept staring at Cheryl. Finally, she answered, "We're having a funeral."

"What?" Cheryl asked, confused.

"Didn't you say that Edgar was using Jason to manipulate you? Well, obviously you never got the closure you needed. We're having a funeral."

"You-you understand?" Cheryl wrung her hands.

"No, not really. You've obviously got some issues." Toni moved toward Cheryl. "But I also fell under Edgar's spell, so I guess I've still got issues, too."

Cheryl smiled through watery eyes. "We need to invite Kevin."

Toni pulled away. "What?"

"That boy's got some issues, too. Maybe this will help him."

Toni raised an eyebrow but shook it away. "Okay, but regardless, the body has got to go."

_Demons cackled in the dark and the monsters were coming out to play in Riverdale. With all the hunters sidelined, there was one beast that I desperately hoped stayed in its' murky cave, but the dark mirth of midnight was upon us and its grip wouldn't break until the golden blade of sunrise claimed the horizon. So all I could do was pray that the night would pass quickly and quietly for our friend._

* * *

Betty awoke to the sound of a low, muffled rumble. Her eyes were greeted by a coarse blackness. As her cognizance increased, she thought she could just make out a faint light above her, as small golden flashes intermittently streamed through the tight knit of the fabric covering her face. She tried to speak but instead sucked in a halted breath, nearly choking as soft fabric pulled into her mouth.

There was a gag in her mouth.

A cold wave shot down her body and she had to focus as she pulled in her next few breaths. Something underneath her pitched and her knees were sent forward into something soft. She wiggled her arms and found that they were once again tied in front of her. She reached down and rubbed her hand against the soft fabric beneath her. She was jolted fully awake, realizing she wasn't in bed anymore, nor was the blackness from her blanket.

Betty was lying sideways in the backseat of a car, a hood once again over her head.

She rolled, bringing her knees up so she had enough room to lay on her back, and let out a soft whimper.

"Shhh," Edgar hushed from somewhere in front of her, " I hope you had a good rest. We're almost there."

He was still aberrantly calm and that was scaring Betty more than if he had been mad.

She felt the car turn and the tires skid as they rolled over what sounded like gravel. The bobbing light she had been watching vanished and Betty was left in darkness again. Her eyes flitted around, trying to focus on something, anything, concrete to stop her stomach from pitching at the disorienting motion.

The car rolled to a stop. Betty heard a door open and then slam. For a few seconds she was left alone in the car and she couldn't hear anything. She held her breath, but then another door opened and cold air rushed around her feet. Two hands grabbed around her shoulders and tugged.

"Just walk forward, let me guide you," Edgar softly coached, helping her to her feet and nudging her forward. Betty gingerly took a step and found spongy grass beneath her feet. She couldn't see anything at this point, and her uneasy breathing and restrained hands were adding to her complete lack of proper equilibrium.

"Just a few more steps. That's it. Now stop." Edgar's grip stiffened and he stopped after a minute or so, causing Betty to stagger against the sudden change in momentum.

"Any guesses as to where we are this time?"

Betty grumbled indignantly through the gag.

"Oh, yes. So sorry, but I had to take further precautions this time after your little incident." She could almost hear him smiling. "Let me set the scene for you then; on our last excursion, we found ourselves in a place of finality and choice, a place of death and departure. Now we revisit a place of subjection and fear, a place of escaped death and rebirth." She could hear another lurid smile.

The hood was yanked away and Betty looked around. An orange moon hung in the sky, sending moonbeams slicing through the swirling fog, casting an eidolic glow through the gnarled branches of the great tree before them. Betty shut her eyes before they could reach the ground, tensing up her face and shoulders.

"Come on, Betty, open your eyes."

She didn't. She knew what was there and she didn't want to see it.

"Betty." Edgar's voice was harder as he grabbed her face and shifted it toward the ground. "Look."

She hesitantly obeyed, her eyes starting to glisten. In front of them was a pile of dirt with a shovel sticking up from it, and next to that a large, freshly-dug pit with a wooden casket sitting open at the bottom.

"Your father was very proud of this moment according to Penelope," Edgar crooned, walking to the edge of the pit and looking in. "He wasn't even there to see it through himself though." He scoffed. "He had a lot of pride for being a coward."

He turned back toward Betty. "You've had quite a few brushes with death, a recurring threat in your journey-," Edgar raised his hands, "something even I was made a vessel for, which tells me that you've been heading for a rebirth this whole time."

Betty shook her head and sputtered through her gag. This wasn't happening. She thought she was rid of this night, but here she was again, the mental wound ripping open as wide as the gaping casket before her. Here was the first time a gun had been held to her head, the terrible prospect of death inches from her face as she tearfully shut Archie in the trap laid for both of them. Although it hadn't actually been her dad that night but an under-duress Svenson, the later knowledge that her father had been puppet mastering the entire encounter had added a nauseating layer to the memory.

"Already once before holding the resonance of a fateful night, this spot becomes a stage for the liminal once more. A host for sin and sanctity to play out their perpetual battle through time, again and again, locked in a singular moment."

He drew in a deep breath and knelt down, grabbing a handful of dirt and letting it run between his fingers, watching it fall as if staring at the sands of time itself.

As Edgar became preoccupied with his own words, Betty shuffled quietly toward the large pile of dirt.

"And here you really did find yourself in the hands of a demon, one who was literally following you and talking in your ear, tempting darkness to rise and fester. And all in the name of purifying sin, although we both know he was the true sinner."

Betty wrapped her hands as best she could around the handle of the shovel and pulled, slowly and silently, until she had an awkward but tight grip on a raised shovel. Edgar hadn't noticed; he was still engrossed in his fanatical monologue to the pit.

"And so the sins of the father became the secrets of the daughter."

Betty froze, her pulse beginning to quicken. Edgar's unhinged words felt like a cold knife twisting in her chest.

"And now the secrets become the seeds, seeds of new life, of rebirth – not by the water, not by the fire, but by the earth. Gritty and visceral. The burden of his actions, the secrets and pain you've had to carry because of him - it's time for them to finally be put to rest."

Edgar slowly rose to his feet. Betty's heart thumped as she looked between him and the coffin. It was now or never. With a ragged grunt and shaking hands, Betty swung the shovel as hard as she could.

_Wham! _Edgar crumpled forward, pitching into the pit and straight into the casket. Betty turned and ran, just ran as hard as she could toward her town.

She didn't dare look behind her. She knew she didn't have much time, and with her restrains and waning strength she wouldn't make it very far either. But she had to try. Pickens Park wasn't terribly far from downtown, but it was still remote enough – and late enough – that nobody was probably around.

Still, she reached up and shifted the gag out of her mouth. Edgar's hubris toward her wrist restraints may just give her a fighting chance. "Help! Someone help!" she tried screaming, but her throat was sore and her mouth dry from the continued neglect, and her screams came out at a lower and more cracked volume than she had hoped.

Betty's gait shifted to an awkward trot as she reached her entwined hands into her pocket, pulling out the FBI badge - her final, desperate breadcrumb.

She screamed again, but all that was produced sounded more like strained coughing. And then suddenly a weight crashed into her back, knocking her to the ground hard, her chin slamming on the grass.

Tears pricked at the corner of her eyes as a voice hissed in her ear.

"That was a mistake."

Edgar yanked her by her jacket's hood and a startled wheeze escaped from her lips. She hastily dropped the badge in the grass before Edgar could notice and watched the blue and white card slide out of view as she was jerked backward and flipped, forced to stare up into Edgar's savage face.

His cheeks and forehead were smeared with dirt and there was a small spot of blood on his collar, yet Betty barely noticed; she was completely petrified by his eyes. The malice she had seen a few days earlier was now entirely wild and free, glaring down at her with primal rage.

"I try to help, I take care of you, and you continue to be ungrateful!" Edgar pulled her up by an arm and started half-carrying, half-dragging her back toward the grave. His eyes darted around wildly as if expecting someone to appear, but they were still agonizingly alone, surrounded only by a thick curtain of fog, the only eye on them being the unblinking moon hanging in a sea of black above. "You can't run, Betty! How many times do I have to tell you, you can't run!"

Betty winced as she was dragged in the gruff position, and she tried to find footing but her legs kept knocking into Edgar as he hastened over the dewy grass. "Edgar, please… please stop…" she pleaded, a sickening cavity growing in her stomach. "Please…"

Edgar shoved the gag back into her mouth and remained eerily silent as they neared the pit. Betty braced herself as she was thrown down, her shoulder erupting into pain as she crashed against the wood. She rolled over and felt a dribble of blood run down her chin. She looked up at the menacing silhouette above her, just barely etched against the black night, and caught a glimpse of feral blue as the lid to the coffin shut with a definitive thud.

A cold scraping sounded above her and then an abrupt volley of cold, wet earth sifted through the slits in the coffin, landing on her legs. Betty flinched and felt her chest tighten. She reached up toward the gag and tried to pull it away, but there wasn't enough room to get her hands all the way to her face. Panic wracked through her body as another pile of dirt landed on her neck.

"This was going to be a slow and meticulous experience, forcing you to feel the agony and despair of your little friend as you buried him alive, but now you've upset me," Edgar hissed from above. _Chnkkk, Ffffpp. _Another shovelful of dirt tumbled over the coffin, the thump on the lid making Betty flinch. "This is what you always do. You rush into things, thinking you're in control and know what you're doing, but you don't. And you only end up making things worse and hurting people, Betty."

She coughed and whimpered lowly as more dirt came crashing down around her. Her face was already streaked with dirt and blood and now her tears were smearing into the grimy mix. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to block out what was happening, even if that meant blocking out the small beams of broken moonlight she could see through the ragged slits of her grave. Betty didn't - couldn't - watch the earthy rainfall coming down on her.

_Chnkkk. Ffffpp. _Another cascade of earth.

"And now-," Edgar was speaking in a low, broken growl, talking through agitated grunts, "-instead of being buried under your father's mistakes, you're buried under your own. And your regrets, your faults – all those lives, all those deaths you're responsible for Betty, I want you to feel them."

She was having trouble breathing; she was sucking the rag raw and a few pieces of dirt were tickling the inside of her nose.

_Chnkkk. Ffffpp._

"All the pain you've caused."

_Chnkkk. Ffffpp. _

"All the agony and death that follows you."

_Chnkkk. Ffffpp._

"Feel the weight, feel it crashing down on you."

_Chnkkk. Ffffpp. _

"As it smothers, as it takes over everything."

_Chnkkk. Ffffpp. _

Another pile tumbled down and rattled the box, dust and dirt trickling around Betty's face. She shook frantically, trying to get the debris away from her mouth and nose. She was covered in dark earth. Her shoulder screamed. Her mind wasn't working. Her stomach was twisting and her lungs were on fire.

Between her spiked breaths and the pounding in her chest, Betty hadn't noticed that the onslaught of dirt had stopped, and the shovel above silent. The lid creaked open and the chilly night air swirled against the stifling must of the grave. Betty remained in the coffin, shaking, eyes shut tight, as impeded breaths jammed against her ribs.

"Open your eyes, Betty."

His words bounced hollowly in her head. She felt paralyzed, just lying there sniveling and quivering.

"Betty, look at me."

Betty slowly opened her trembling eyelids. Edgar was crouched at the very edge of the pit, covered in dirt and grime, with something that could only be described as a maddening look of mirth on his face.

"Good." He reached down and dragged Betty up out of the casket. She screamed silently as her shoulder was jerked and her legs knocked against the earth wall until she was sprawled on the ground in front of Edgar.

"A baptism of the earth. Battling and overcoming what's underneath by going underneath." His voice was calmer, returning to its usual slow cadence.

She quickly pulled away her gag and hunched forward, dry heaving and spluttering onto the grass. Violent tremors quaked up and down her body.

"Every gasp for breath, every feeble cry and push against the grave to emerge free in this new air – that's what everyone who's died because of your foolish behavior has felt, except they didn't get a second chance. But now, you get reborn out of their remembered anguish and terror."

Betty sucked in a few shallow breaths, swallowing back the continuing rise of bile in her throat. Her whole inside felt hollow and gnawed, a dreadful weight pulling at her now empty gut. She slumped over on the grass, silent convulsions sapping any last bit of energy from her bones.

She was wrong - mad Edgar scared her much, much more than calm Edgar.

Edgar pulled a needle out of his pocket. "Clean yourself up when we get back," he chirped, thrusting it into Betty's neck without breaking his unblinking stare with her.

"Oh, and Betty, Happy Halloween."

* * *

FP drove slowly through the foggy streets of Riverdale. The dashboard light cast an orange glow on his face as the faint chatter from the police scanner hummed through the dark car, but it was nothing more than white noise to him.

The puzzle pieces he had felt loosening were now toppling. Gladys always had a sense of dramatic timing, and this one might have been her worst entrance yet. After their initial conversation, they had tried avoiding each other for the next several days, coming in and out of the house at separate times, taking turns running one of the kids to or from school in the name of "mother or father time," but FP knew that another talk was inevitable. And Gladys' question managed to still ring front and center in his head over the past few days.

He had wanted Gladys to come back, he really did, but he now realized it was more for Jughead and Jellybean's sake. He couldn't deny what was really growing in his heart. Alice's departure with The Farm had reawakened a certain yearning, one that he hadn't really paid attention to during the events of the past year, but one that had only grown when Charles had arrived.

A car pulled abruptly in front of him from one of the gravel paths leading to the park and he slammed on the brake. FP grumbled something to himself about teenagers and resumed driving.

And Jughead was being as stubborn as ever. He really couldn't blame the teen – he didn't know what kind of time they had left in Betty's case either, but he couldn't keep watching Jughead ignore his own needs. Not this time.

He yawned and looked down at the dashboard. _4:00 am_. He sighed and turned the car, deciding a stop to Pop's was necessary if he was going to make through the rest of the night. The night had been slow; luckily it seemed that this Halloween in Riverdale had come and gone relatively quietly.

"Hey, Pop," he called as he stepped into the sleepy diner.

"You got stuck with the late shift tonight too, huh, FP?" Pop grinned from behind the counter. "Coffee?"

"Please." FP nestled into one of the booths toward the back of the empty diner. "Has it been a slow night for you? It's been surprisingly quiet out there tonight."

"Just a few families stopping in after trick-or-treating." Pop walked over and placed a cup of coffee in front of FP. "Other than that, it's been quiet for me, too." Pop hovered over the table. "How's Jughead holding up? Having Betty gone? The poor boy must be unraveling. I haven't seen him in here for a while. Come to think of it, I haven't seen any of those kids in here lately."

FP sighed, "He's not doing so great, but I'm trying to get him back in fighting spirits. And he and the others aren't exactly speaking right now."

Pop frowned. "Shame, I miss those kids. Tell them to try to stop by. I've seen them make up over a milkshake and fries on more than one occasion."

"I'll do that, Pop," FP yawned. "You better just leave that whole pot here."

Pop chuckled and placed the coffee pot on the table before he walked away. FP yawned again and leaned back, his tired mind swirling between thoughts of Alice and Jughead.

xxx

_"10-39, Can Sheriff Jones please come to the radio, 10-39."_

A crackling voice jerked FP awake. He rubbed his eyes and looked around. He was still sitting in Pop's, but the sun was rising outside and a few people were now scattered throughout the diner.

"Crap." He looked at his watch. _6:07 am_. He unclipped his radio and answered, "Go for sheriff."

_"Someone called in about suspicious activity over at Pickens Park. Are you available to check it out?"_

"10-4. I'm on my way." FP clipped his radio back to his belt and scooted out of the booth, dropping a few bills on the table.

"Have a nice nap?" Pop called as FP shuffled out the door.

"It was great. Thanks, Pop. But seems as though I might have spoken too soon. Maybe the night wasn't as quiet as we thought."

FP climbed into his cruiser and revved the engine to life in the still morning air.

* * *

Betty sat with her knees to her chest underneath the steady stream of the shower. She watched as dirt and blood slowly ran down the tub and swirled into the drain. She hadn't even bothered to take her clothes off, there was no point. The filth from that night clung straight through her clothes and into her bones. There was no washing that off.

The pressure tugged in her chest. Her body was still shaking despite the flow of hot water pouring over her, and her shoulder throbbed. She looked around the small bathroom, her eyes falling on the mirror above the sink. She couldn't see into it, but she shuddered at the thought of what would stare back out if she could.

Betty turned her head and looked down at the river of mud churning in the tub. Her legs quivered and a bubble seemed to burst in her chest. She pressed her head to her knees and let out a deep wail. The dam had broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for you! My work schedule is back to being completely packed (don’t go into the field of film production if you value free time. Just kidding, I love it.) But seriously, just expect a few weeks in between each update.
> 
> We stepped into some dark night of the soul territory with this one, but it looks like we’re finally getting some traction back in Riverdale… 
> 
> And I was totally going to completely ignore the Hiram, and Cheryl having Jason’s body plot points from the show, but I thought I’d give myself a challenge and see if I could write myself out of those corners, all while staying within the thematic elements of this story.
> 
> As always, I hope you enjoy, and if you so please, drop a comment! I have loved reading them all so far! 
> 
> Riverdale is back tonight! It'll be so sad not seeing Luke :( 


	11. The Raven

Dew clung to the soft grass in Pickens Park, but its morning stillness was soon disturbed as a line of boots tromped over the ground. Water droplets flung into the air as officers set up a perimeter around the area. Underneath the swirling pink and yellow hues of daybreak sat a large, empty hole in the ground. A few other officers were corralling a small group of spectators while a CSI crouched inside the hole, scraping at the dirt walls. FP was hunched over him on the ground above.

He had been a bit annoyed when he first arrived at the scene; a big hole in a park wasn't exactly remarkable, but it wasn't exactly innocuous either. At first, he had thought it was probably just some Halloween prank – he had seen some teenagers pull out of the park in front of him the night before, after all – but when they had found a few blood splatters, he had begun to feel a pit of his own growing in his stomach.

"Are you able to collect enough for us to get a proper test on those samples?" FP asked.

The CSI shook a small bag with a few swabs inside. "Yeah, I think we should be able to get something out of this. Especially since the lab just got all that new equipment."

FP sighed. The infamous donations had gotten to the station quickly, and shiny new forensics equipment had been wheeled to the station, as well as updated security cameras, materials to update the holding area, and now there was even talk about the possibility of adding a K-9 unit. While he still wrestled with the potential intentions of the benefactors, FP had to admit, he was grateful.

He stood and nodded, helping the CSI out of the hole. "Good. Thanks, Allen. Get those back to the station. I'll do a final sweep of the area, and if I find anything else for you, I'll let you know." Allen the CSI nodded and scurried toward one of the police vans parked in a small, gravel lot nearby.

"Hey, FP! A little help here?"

FP looked over toward the small group of spectators lining the perimeter. Tom Keller was amongst them, talking to an officer and looking rather annoyed.

"Let him through! I called him, he's with me." FP waved to the officer, who then begrudgingly let Tom duck under the police tape. "Sorry, Tom. He's new and apparently doesn't know about the great Tom Keller."

Tom shook his head but smiled. FP smiled back and the two began walking towards the pit. "So, Tom, I called you because I've got a pretty weird scene here, and I've had an odd feeling toward it all morning. I was trying to place my finger on why and then I remembered." They had reached the edge of the pit. Tom crouched down and looked in. "And I was hoping you might be able to quell my fear about that."

Tom took a deep breath and stood up. "I don't know about quelling that fear, FP-," he motioned toward the tree behind the hole, "-I think your instincts were right - this seems to be the exact spot I found Archie and Betty that night. But that was the Black Hood, and Hal is dead."

"Yeah, that's why this weirds me out so much. It's too similar, but it still doesn't make any sense."

Tom crossed his arms and looked at FP. "Nothing was in the pit? It was just empty?"

FP nodded, "Just a big, gaping hole. There were a few dark splotches in the pit, we took a few samples to see what we get. Could be blood."

Tom gave a thoughtful hum and looked around the clearing in the park. FP had hoped he would have gotten a few more details from eyes that had seen this occurrence before, but he guessed Tom was just as thrown as he was. FP looked around too; the sun had fully risen and was now hanging in a clear sky. The small crowd around the park had mostly dispersed, probably after realizing there was nothing to look at but a hole in the ground.

"FP?" Tom asked, turning his stance back toward him. FP looked over; Tom had a searching look on his face. "Is this the only reason you asked me to come? I mean, you could have looked up all the details to the Black Hood attacks in the case archives."

FP moved his hands down to his hips. "Tom," he began, biting his lip, "how did you know… when did you know you couldn't fix things with your wife?"

Tom relaxed his shoulders and frowned sympathetically. "Her deployment had been so long. Even when we talked, it was like we didn't even know each other anymore. Nothing was grounding us together anymore."

"What about Kevin?"

Tom shook his head. "Of course Kevin was keeping us together. Kevin will always be ours, but our personal, intimate connection felt like it was evaporating. Why do you ask, FP?"

FP studied Tom's face. He figured that was a rhetorical question, but answered anyway. "Gladys is back, and I thought I wanted that. But-,"

"But someone else is in the picture now, too? Someone unexpected?"

FP nodded.

Tom scratched his head and placed his hands on his hips. "Kevin's mother and I were having issues, and then Sierra and I started reconnecting – weirdly enough because of everything that's happened in town - and we realized both of us were sinking. And that's not a good place to base a relationship on, but I did have to ask myself a question – what did my family need? And Sierra had to ask the same."

"And divorce was best...?" FP asked warily.

Tom shot a glance to the ground. "Divorce is never best, but making sure we can take care of our kids is. And Sierra and I could take care of Kevin and Josie better together than with two absent parents. I just wish that we had brought them into the conversation sooner."

FP nodded slowly, his eyes absently roaming the trees behind Tom. "But then, did you still think Sierra was the one? Despite the decision being for Kevin and Josie?"

"Sierra was always the one. We drifted away from each other for a while, went our own ways, but as soon as we reconnected, well... it was like we'd never been apart in the first place. I was home."

FP looked down at the ground, his mind racing. He felt a hand land gently on his shoulder.

"Figure out where home is, FP. That's the best advice I can give you." Tom was smiling as FP looked up. He nodded and patted Tom back on the shoulder. "Well, I'll let you get back to your job. You're doing good, FP."

Tom began walking away, but FP shouted after him, "Do you miss it ever? Law enforcement?"

Tom turned over his shoulder and called back, "Yeah. But I'm actually getting back in the game. In fact, I'm even starting a new job today."

"Oh, congrats! See ya' around, Tom." FP started walking toward his cruiser, his mind nowhere near the crime scene he was currently stepping through. Home. He'd mostly only been thinking about home in terms of Jughead and Jellybean. But now he could see he made some more to think about.

"FP!" Tom's voice echoed over the emptying park. FP turned around; Tom was hovering near the entrance to the footbridge, staring at something on the ground. "Hey, did you invite any of your FBI pals here?"

"No," FP said, knitting his eyebrows and changing course.

"There's a badge over here."

FP reached where Tom was and bent down, picking up a dew-covered piece of blue and white plastic. He stared at it inquisitively, raising an eyebrow. "This looks just like Jughead's..."

He squinted, looking closer at the badge. Some of the letters in "_Federal Bureau of Investigation" _were scratched out. His heart began to race and he looked back down at the ground, his eyes scurrying over the crushed grass until he spotted a dried dark spot – a dark red spot - a few feet away. His glance then shifted to the pit in the middle of the park, his insides beginning to twist.

"Oh no…" FP shot up and frantically began jogging away from a puzzled Tom. "Thank you, Tom. For everything!" He clutched the badge tight in his hand and bounded toward the small cluster of police vehicles.

"Hey, Allen! Don't leave yet, I've got something else for ya!"

* * *

Edgar sat in his large leather chair, turning his burner phone over in his hands. He stared thoughtfully ahead into the orange glow cast by multiple candles positioned around the room. Shadows nestled themselves in the corner of his office, partially engulfing Edgar in their dark wake.

It had been a close call when Betty had somehow found her way out of the cabin. That could have ruined everything, but thankfully he always had a contingency in place, and it had worked favorably. She knew there was nowhere to run. He was in complete control and, despite a second attempted escape, the previous night had hopefully cemented that in her mind.

He had gotten more aggressive than he had planned, but the results were more than he could've asked for; Betty had looked absolutely petrified lying there helpless at the bottom of the coffin.

Edgar placed the phone on his desk and folded his hands in his lap.

But he still had to pace himself if he wanted to see this through properly. Leaving her to herself for another week should do the trick. And then one last trip before leaving her alone to writhe.

He smiled to himself and reached forward, picking up and dropping one of the balls on his Newton's Cradle. What a joy to it was to watch Betty Cooper descend into a broken and powerless heap; she was growing weaker by the day and soon would be too empty to even fight back.

And when he returned at the very end, after guiding his young adversary through forty days of the wild, she would be nothing more than a hollow shell of her former self. And in proper form for any teacher, he would leave her with the one final task – find her way home. He'd disappear. The Farm would be long gone by then. She would never make it home by herself, and, even if anyone did manage to find her, it wouldn't even really be Betty anymore.

There was a knock on the door and Alice stuck her head inside. "Edgar?" she called, walking nervously into his office.

"Alice, come in." He rose and walked around his desk, letting slip another small smile. And he would get everything he wanted.

"Edgar," Alice said, sitting down in one of the chairs across from his desk, "I've been worried about you. You've seemed rather agitated, and just this morning you came back a mess. Is everything alright?" She frowned and started wringing her hands.

He sighed and leaned forward. "Everything is alright, Alice. My job comes with some unsightly responsibilities at times, things that I have to take care of myself. Certain sacrifices have to be made for you and everyone else here at The Farm to live safely and comfortably. To be the best leader I can be, I have to constantly make sure I'm dispelling disturbances that may otherwise be holding me back."

He reached forward and held a hand open for Alice. She grabbed it. "So you're just spending some time with yourself? Refocusing?"

He nodded, "I call it vision casting. Being closer to the earth, the elements, much like your baptism, helps me realign to the natural frequencies. Last night I had a particularly nasty thorn in my side that needed to be wrestled with, but it's better now."

Alice sighed and smiled. "Oh, that makes me feel better. I've been so worried about you."

"Thank you, Alice. I appreciate the concern. Awareness is an honorable thing to have."

The doors swung open and Penelope sauntered inside. Edgar pulled away from Alice and made eye contact with her. "Alice, so sorry to cut our time short, but I have a session with Penelope." Penelope raised an eyebrow wryly and waved at Alice, who had popped up from her seat.

"That's alright, Edgar, I heard what I needed. I'm just glad you are doing well." She shuffled toward the door. "Penelope," she said curtly.

"Alice," Penelope replied dryly. She walked over to the chair and plopped down as the door shut behind them. "What did she want?"

Edgar leaned back, relaxing into his chair. "Oh, she just wanted to know what I was doing last night."

Penelope smirked, "What'd you tell her?"

"Just what she needed to hear. Enough to appease her until this is all over."

Penelope pouted, "Pity this is almost over, it's been so delightful. Can I have the girl when you're done?"

Edgar tapped his fingers on the armrest, suppressing a grunt of frustration. "This is not a game, Penelope. This is serious."

The Newton's Cradle clacked forcefully between them. "What?" Penelope griped, "Aren't you planning on just leaving her for the wolves when you're done, anyway?"

"It's a carefully considered ending to a journey of slow destruction, not a throw-away," Edgar scowled.

Penelope raised her eyebrows and got up from her chair, tutting as she browsed the dusty books lining Edgar's office. "My, my, no need to get so fussy. It was just a question." She traced a finger over a small, stone bust of a bird sitting on one of the shelves. "But you did want to talk to me about something?"

He placed his elbows on his desk and folded his hands, "I wanted to go over a few final details and make sure you knew that I'm preparing on moving The Farm again. I've got one final act in my plans for Betty, but then we're moving on and you need to move on somewhere too, we can't be connected after this."

She plucked a book from the shelf, blowing a cloud of dust off the cover. "Oh, I didn't plan on staying with your band of misfits anyway. And please, I slipped away from the cops before, I don't think we'll have to worry about that."

"I know you've been back in Riverdale."

"Just on the fringes, out of sight."

"That's where you need to stay. I told you it was a risk for both of us to be there."

Penelope turned toward him and crossed her arms. "You don't get to make all the rules, or have all the fun."

Edgar sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I know I may sound a bit harsh, but I'm trying to keep us both safe. You want to keep your freedom, don't you?" She nodded. "Now, please, sit down. We need to hash out a few more details." The cradle had grown silent, but Edgar reached back out and snapped one of the balls, sending the other end clicking and rapping. "And I'd like to hear a bit more about your son's death."

xxx

Alice pressed herself up against the large wooden doors, keeping her breathing slow and quiet.

She didn't trust Edgar one bit. For one, there had been a phone on his desk, and he was vehemently against certain technology, and Penelope was still hanging around. That was _not _a good sign. And vision casting? Ugh, that sounded like some half-baked mumbo-jumbo from a middle-aged divorcee trying to reclaim herself from the bad juju of her ex-husband.

The doors were thick and she could mostly only hear indistinct mumbling, but there were a few words she could catch clearly.

"_This is not a game, Penelope."_

She stifled a snort. At least Edgar's indignation toward Penelope was somewhat amusing.

"…_moving The Farm again…"_

Great. Hopefully, she'd make it out before there was another 'ascension.' She wasn't even sure how much longer she could take of the Farmies at present; another move would be absolute torture. She leaned in closer as the voices became mumbles again. And then she heard something that made her blood run cold.

"…_plans for Betty,"_

No. No, no, no, she couldn't have heard that right. She pulled away from the door and covered her mouth to keep from letting out an audible gasp. Disappearing at odd hours, hoarding medical supplies, returning covered in dirt… that monster. What was he planning?

Alice broke into a fast walk down the hall, trying to hold back her panic. She had to act, she had to do something. And she was sure of one thing:

There was no time to lose.

* * *

Archie unzipped his backpack and began stuffing his books into his locker. He yawned and rubbed an eye; he had stayed at the community center much longer than he had anticipated.

"Good morning, Archiekins, late night?" Veronica strolled up beside him carrying a cup of coffee and a slightly irritated look.

"Crap," Archie stammered, dropping his arm to his side, "I was supposed to call you last night. I'm sorry, Ronnie, but we ending up catching our brick-thrower last night."

Veronica perked up. "And?"

"It was just a kid. Like you said." He shut his locker and the two started walking down the crowded hall. "His name's TJ, he's 12, and he has a pretty rough home life. The center opening just made him upset."

"Oh, Archie," Veronica rubbed his arm and leaned into him. "It sounds like you talked to this kid, then?"

He nodded, "Yeah, my mom and I sat with him for a long time last night. His mother died last year and it sounds like his dad doesn't do much more than drink these days. He's felt so helpless – even tried running away a few times. But I promised him that he could hang out at the center whenever he wanted if he needed a safe space."

Veronica pulled back and stopped. Archie turned toward her. "What?"

She was smiling. "You know who you sound like right now?" Archie shook his head, knitting his brow. "Your dad."

Archie felt a swell in his chest.

"Opening your doors to someone who needs a home?" Veronica continued, "It's exactly why you started the community center. It's exactly what Fred did for Jughead."

Archie swallowed, taking in that statement. He thought he would never feel close to his dad again, that the gap left in his heart would stay there forever. But each time he interacted with the kids at the center, the gap closed just a little bit.

He beamed and looked up, catching a glimpse of a gray beanie amongst the other bobbing heads down the hall.

"Veronica, speaking of Jughead, we need to talk to him." Archie started pacing back down the hallway, making sure he kept Jughead in his sight.

"After everything he said? He should be the one trying to talk to _us." _Veronica trotted behind Archie.

"Yeah, but after seeing TJ and realizing how much the paranoia of figuring out who did it was eating at me, I understood a bit more why Jughead's been holding onto his paranoia about Charles and everyone so much. Doesn't make everything he said right, but it's not going to help any of us right now if we keep blaming each other and refusing to talk."

Archie weaved in and out of the students. "Jug! Hey, Jug, please wait up!"

Jughead turned around and sent an annoyed scowl Archie's way, but he stopped, allowing Archie to catch up to him.

"Jughead, please, we have to stop avoiding each other. How long has it been? Almost a week?"

Jughead snorted. "We made a promise, Archie, are you ready to apologize for breaking that promise?"

Veronica caught up to the two of them. Archie felt a bit of anger creep into his mind, but pushed it away. "Yes, actually."

He hoped he looked earnest as Jughead tilted his head.

"We handled the situation wrong, we should have told you about Hiram as soon as it came up, but I also still stand with what I said about not everything being your business."

Jughead furrowed his brow and opened his mouth. "But," Archie interjected, "I've come to understand a bit more how you feel. It must not be easy to separate all your worry about Betty from everything else going on."

Jughead closed his mouth. It looked like he was considering this.

"Everything feels like a threat."

Archie nodded. He understood that part.

"And just as things were looking up, a brand new can of worms opened, and I still don't know where to put my trust," Jughead continued, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"You can trust us, Jughead," Veronica added, "I'm going to visit my dad again after school today to try to sort all this out."

Jughead looked between the two of them as if trying to read their faces for any hints of insincerity. Archie reached out a hand. "What do you say, Jug? Can we be friends again?"

Jughead pulled a hand out of his pocket, but instead of reaching out to Archie, he placed it around the strap of his bag. "To be discussed." And he turned and walked away down the hall.

Archie frowned and dropped his hand. Veronica stepped beside him. "What was that?"

He wrapped a hand around Veronica's and looked down at her.

"Progress."

* * *

"You found it in Pickens Park? Just like this?"

"Just like this," FP nodded. He and Charles were leaning against the desk in his office, staring at a whiteboard. A photo of the FBI badge was taped to a corner of the board. "Look at this," FP continued, pointing at the photograph, "There are letters scratched out of _Federal Bureau of Investigation. _This has to be from Betty, I mean it looks just like the one Jughead has."

"We can't say anything definitive until we get the prints back from forensics," Charles inhaled and stepped forward, picking up a marker. "But, if it is from her, let's see what she's trying to tell us." He began writing, occasionally glancing up and squinting at the photo.

"_edraraoigton," _he spelled out, stepping back from the board. "If this _is _from Betty, she'd probably try to make this as straight forward as possible, like a name or a place."

"Um, okay. How do we start this? Just, like, sound stuff out or what?" FP crossed his arms and looked at the jumbled letters. They didn't make any sense to him, but he was sure there was something there.

"Just start looking for any familiar words or patterns, if we can rule a pattern in or out, that helps a lot." Charles uncapped the marker and began jotting down a few words underneath the stretch of letters.

"Well, there's no 'v' or 'l', so it can't be Riverdale. Which is concerning since we found it here."

"Well, it might point to a specific place in town," Charles said, backing away from the board. "Road is a possible word, so is Oneida? That's a town a bit south of here."

"Write it down, I'm not taking anything off the table right now." FP rubbed a hand over his face. "Go to? You can spell out 'go to,' what does that leave us with?"

There was a knock on the door and the CSI stuck his head in.

FP's heart jumped. "Allen! Did you already get a hit?"

Allen walked into the room carrying the evidence bag with the badge, and a few documents. "Yeah, that new equipment is working great." He handed FP the evidence bag. "We got some good news, FP. The prints on this are a complete match to Betty Cooper."

FP grabbed the bag and leaned back against the desk, his heart doing a small summersault. Finally. He looked over at Charles, who had a similarly eager look on his face.

"We also finished with the blood samples. The one from the grass is a match to Betty, as well as one of the spots from inside the pit."

FP's stomach dropped slightly at that bit of information. He sure hoped the resemblance between the scene he had found and the one he had asked Keller about stopped at just that - a resemblance.

"And there was one more match, too. There was a second blood sample found inside the pit. We didn't have a DNA match in our system, so we ran it against what the FBI gave us and we got a hit."

Allen handed FP the document he had been holding. FP scanned the information anxiously, a frown creeping onto his face. He handed Charles the paper and walked over to the whiteboard, staring at the letters. He crossed a few out and wrote a single word on the board.

"_Edgar." _

FP turned back to Charles, placing the marker down in the tray with a resolute thud.

"Looks like we're on the same case after all."

* * *

Hiram dropped the barbells back down onto the rack, pushing them back into a tidy, neat line. Everything was going smoothly insofar, even the little hiccup with Chic's demise hadn't affected much, as he thought it might. It was good that news from the outside did not travel easily through the prison. And now it was time to enact the second phase of his plan.

Trying to figure out how to get a majority of the prisoners on his side had been quite a headache, but when he realized what desire he needed to play into, finding a willing volunteer for a set-up "escape" had been easy. A little money can go a long way.

He glanced around the courtyard, watching as the other inmates worked out or hung in their own reclusive corners of the area. One lonely guard was watching over the half-a-dozen or so men scattered around the yard. He made eye contact with the guard, who titled his head. Hiram nodded.

The guard stepped toward the closest prisoner and began verbally berating him, pulling out a nightstick. Hiram darted over.

"Hey! Stop it. This man has done nothing wrong!" he cried, stepping in between the guard and the inmate.

"He was looking at me funny, thought I should teach him a bit about respect," the guard replied, raising his baton a bit higher. "Besides, this isn't your prison anymore, Mr. Lodge. You can't tell me what to do."

Hiram sneered and throw a punch into the guards' face. The other inmate joined in, shoving the guard against the fence.

"Respect is earned, not forced," Hiram responded, sending the guard to the ground. The guard lay in a curled heap, backing himself up to the fence. Hiram turned around and looked over the courtyard. "Boys, how about we get out of here?"

Hiram opened the door and the other inmates began shuffling back into the precinct. As the last one disappeared around the corner, Hiram turned back to the guard and winked. The guard winked in return.

"Aren't you the one who built this prison?" The inmate from earlier had come up beside Hiram as they walked toward the cafeteria. "Why'd you do that?" The group was all staring at Hiram.

"Gentlemen," he began, placing his hands behind his back, "It's true. I did build this prison. I envisioned it as a place of rehabilitation, hence the cozy rooms and salaries. But as soon as I arrived on this side of the walls, I realized how corrupt that dream has become. The security detail has traded its civil duty for power."

"Cheap talk, Hiram. We know who you are," a skinny man with a long beard said, getting in Hiram's face. "Why would you fight for us?"

"Donnie, is it?" Hiram asked, clearing his throat. Remembering names was important, it was personal. "Because I know all of you just want what I want – freedom. My own security disillusioned me, in the beginning, yes, but now I stand with you. And I can help you because I know their weaknesses."

"Are you saying… you want to break out?" Donnie raised a suspicious eyebrow.

Hiram smiled, "I'm saying someone already has. Successfully. Do you remember that redhaired fellow? Chic, I believe?" A few of the men nodded. "He escaped a few weeks ago. Hasn't been caught. The captain of the guard panicked and has tried to keep it on the down-low, saying he was released on parole."

Donnie and a few of the other inmates began looking around at each other, inquisitive looks on their faces. The bait was working. Now to add a bit more to the hook.

"The captain panicked so much in fact, that he gutted some of the staff and hired fresh faces, most likely so he could raise them up under his thumb without them being aware of it."

"Is that why we stopped getting paid? So they could hire new guards?"

Hiram forced a frown. "No, they took away your wages so that they could give a nice hearty donation to the Riverdale police force, show ponying it under the guise that it was for a good cause, effectively keeping the police off the trail of all their inward corruption." Only a partial lie. He had ordered the donation to steer the public eye back to seeing his name in a good light.

Veronica had inadvertently assisted him by organizing that oh-so-timely rally, and he couldn't help but look forward to rubbing that in her face. Without exposing the plan, of course.

"How do you know all this?" Donnie probed, crossing his arms.

"A few of them still think I'm on their side. And so I've remained chummy, collecting bits of information here and there, but all the while I've been getting intel for you – for us – so we can take back our freedom."

Donnie seemed to be considering that, as a wry smile spread across his face. "Well, I'll be, boys, looks like we got ourselves a real fox in the hen house. I'm in. What's next?"

Hiram smiled. More like a paper tiger. "We'll stage an organized coup. If we join forces they'll be so overwhelmed, we'll be out and scattered before they ever knew what hit them."

"Mr. Lodge?" The captain of the guard himself had suddenly appeared. "You have a visitor."

Hiram nodded and walked over to him, glancing over his shoulder quickly and winking at Donnie and the group. The next phase was in motion, and soon, he would be a hero again.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the group of inmates, the captain leaned into Hiram. "Did they buy it?"

"I believe they did, Patton. Soon, this prison will be in mass chaos and I'll come out on top, a hero in the eyes of the people again." Patton made a very deliberate throat clear. "And you'll get your money, of course."

Captain Patton smiled. "The new recruits are here. They'll have no idea what hit 'em when the riot gets underway. They'll be so grateful for you, you'll have them in your pocket in no time. When are you planning the little coup anyway?"

"Oh, give it a little more time. I need to talk it up a bit more with some of them. Another week or so."

Patton nodded and Hiram watched a few new guards be led down the hallway as he approached the visiting area. What he did not expect was for Tom Keller to be amongst them.

"Hiram," Tom stated, tipping his hat with a small smirk as he passed.

"Tom," Hiram responded, steadying his face. As soon as he was far enough away, he scowled. He'd have to deal with that wrench later, right now he figured there was someone waiting in the lounge that he needed to satiate first.

The captain opened the door to the visiting area and sure enough, Hiram saw Veronica sitting at one of the tables, glaring at him.

She couldn't just leave well enough alone, could she?

* * *

Jughead walked into his house, and threw his bag on the ground, sinking onto the couch.

"Hey, Jughead, how was school?" Gladys walked into the living room and sat next to him, placing a pile of mail on the coffee table.

"Better than yesterday," he answered, straightening himself up. "But I think I made a mistake, though."

"And what might that be?" Gladys asked.

"Archie reached out to me. He apologized and it sounded sincere, but I still brushed him off."

Gladys pursed her lips.

"He told me exactly what I wanted, more than he needed to really, but I still let my anger answer."

Gladys sucked a breath between her teeth. "Well, people can be sincere, but that doesn't mean we have to accept their apologies."

Jughead raised an eyebrow. "You mean like you and dad?" He stared at Gladys, who gave him a look of surprise. "Mom, I heard you and dad the other night."

She hung her head. "How much?"

"Enough."

She bobbed her head in thought and looked back up at Jughead.

"I-I'm not really sure dad has anything to apologize for," Jughead continued. "And neither do you."

Now Gladys looked confused, and possibly a bit hurt.

"Families are messy. Maybe ours just wasn't meant to work the way it was supposed to," Jughead said sadly.

Gladys moved closer and wrapped an arm around him. "Maybe, Jug. But what fun would it be if we were a normal family?" She smiled at him, but he could still tell she was upset.

"I'm sorry, Mom. I haven't been anything but standoffish to you since you've been here. Everything is just…everything is just so weird." He cupped his face in his hands.

"I know, baby, I know." She wrapped him in a big hug. He grasped her arm. "Just know that whatever happens, I love you and JB."

He nodded and leaned into her shoulder. He looked down at the pile of mail and titled his head. "What's that?" he said, reaching toward a large white envelope.

"Oh!" Gladys pulled away. "I was coming to bring that to you. It looks like a college letter, I wanted to see you get your first acceptance!"

Jughead looked at his mom and stiffened; he hadn't applied anywhere yet, and amongst the chaos of everything that had happened, he hadn't even sat down and researched any. He looked back at the letter, his eyes catching the name in the address.

"It's for Betty." His heart sank. Gladys' face dropped and they were silent for a moment.

"Well," she said in a quiet voice, "we'll save it for when she gets back. So she can open it herself."

Jughead swallowed and gingerly placed the envelope back down on the coffee table. He heard the door open and FP stepped into the house. He looked a bit frenzied to Jughead, as he pushed the door closed in a hurry and dropped into a chair.

"Dad? What's up? You haven't been back to the house since you left for your shift last night."

"Jug," FP began, slowly removing his hat and placing it on the table. "Jug, we have some news."

Jughead quickly adjusted himself, eyes growing wide. Gladys got up and started walking toward the kitchen. "I'll just leave you two alone."

"Gladys, it's okay. You can stay if you'd like." FP turned back to Jughead. "I got a call for something odd at Pickens Park this morning and we ended up finding an FBI badge, Jug. One with letters scratched out, And we were able to match the prints. Betty's prints."

Jughead felt his heart leap into his chest. "She's in Riverdale? She's… she's alive?" His words came out a bit shakily.

FP nodded. "She's alive. But, while she _was _in Riverdale, we're still not sure if she's being held here. We haven't gotten a location." He hunched over and folded his hands. "There were a few blood spots at the scene. One was from Betty, but we got another match, too."

Jughead held his breath.

"Edgar Evernever."

Jughead felt as though the couch was lurching beneath him. Flashes of the Sisters of Quiet Mercy seized his mind, images of the sickening operating room and of a hypnotic smile.

"What…" he muttered, "No… but he doesn't know Chic…" He swallowed, "The last time he was around Betty, she was… oh no…" He could feel his breathing start to accelerate at an uncomfortable rate. "What was weird at the Park?"

FP placed a hand on Jughead's knee, immediately helping him exhale. "I'll tell you about that later, but for now, Jug, we've got the FBI working with us. And they've already been tracking him. We have to be close."

The answer had been right there in front of them the whole time. He had even been at the Sisters, too focused on Charles to see the signs right in front of him. The signs of the first name that should have popped into his head.

"Apparently not close enough to notice he was in Riverdale. Multiple times." Jug hastily fired back. He felt nauseated.

"Yeah, they admitted he's tricky. But Betty managed to leave us a clue. Part of it spelled out Edgar, but there's still more we have to decipher. Jug, I think you're the best person to figure out what that this. Will you help us?"

Jughead looked up. FP's face was soft and concerned.

He placed a hand on top of his dad's and nodded forcefully. Answers. They were finally getting answers. He just hoped they hadn't come too late.

* * *

Betty shivered and ambled over to the fireplace, pulling the blanket closer around her. She threw a few logs into the grate and lit a match, tossing it on top of the wood. Blowing gently, she tried to stoke the fire to life. The flame began to spread and she leaned back, sitting on the floor.

How long had it been since Edgar dumped her back in the cabin after burying her alive? Two days? Three? She couldn't even keep track of the days anymore. Torrents of grief and guilt kept tumbling through her head. There wasn't room to think about much else.

And then there was the pain. The pain she had caused everyone. Every time she started to think about it, her breathing got stuck and she was suffocating again. People had _died _because of her mistakes, her incompetence. Maybe she was the one causing all the darkness in Riverdale after all. Had her courage this whole time actually just been foolishness?

_No, _a small voice was still fighting its way to the front of her mind, _no, Betty. Block out the thoughts. _She hadn't succeeded at blocking out any thoughts since being in the coffin. Her mind was overflowing. Hadn't Dr. Glass said something about this? She thought he had mentioned something once about how to distract the mind, something about reciting a poem or song.

She watched the flames dance in front of her and she thought she heard a faint tapping on one of the windows.

"Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary…"

Great. Of course, that would be the first poem that came to mind_._ But she kept at it, trying to drown out the competing voices of shame and sorrow.

"Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December, And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor."

Ghosts. Betty slid toward the counter, tilting to one side to avoid the pain in her shoulder, and leaned up against it. She ran her hands through her hair. She felt haunted, as though ghosts were floating at the edge of her vision, reminding her of all the faces she'd once seen full of life, ones that now lay quiet and frozen.

"Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing."

The awful hollow feeling in her stomach was returning and she suddenly choked back tears. Somehow she felt so empty and full at the same time. She kept trying to picture Jughead's face in her mind - her mom's, Archie's, Veronica's - but every time she tried to conjure them, they were distorted.

"Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning, Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before."

Their faces kept morphing into Edgar's evil grin, his blue eyes piercing into her like a cold blade. She shook; she never wanted to see him mad again. She might not live if the next time.

She jumped as wood creaked somewhere around her, and she darted her head uneasily toward the door. It remained shut and the knob still.

Betty exhaled and closed her eyes, collecting herself and leaning back against the counter. "'Tis the wind and nothing more."

She just wanted to go home. She wanted to wake up in her bed in her overly pink room and realize this was all a dream. She wanted to see Jughead and her friends at school. She wanted to be sitting in Pop's, enjoying the lunch with her friends she never made it to. She wanted to worry about homework and college essays. She would even take worrying about gang politics or murder mysteries right now. Anything else if it meant being free and away from here.

Betty sighed and stared at the mantle above the fireplace, imagining a bird staring at her, its beady eyes digging into her soul, a small call of 'Nevermore' escaping its beak. She shook her head again and looked out the window. It was light outside and she knew she was awake. The nightmare was real and it wasn't fading away.

She hated that she felt so helpless. She hated that she was so scared of Edgar.

He was just supposed to be some joke of a cult leader - some swindler conning people out of money with false promises. He wasn't supposed to have become a real enemy. He wasn't supposed to have manipulated her friends and family. He wasn't supposed to have almost performed surgery on her. He wasn't supposed to have become a stalker.

She wasn't supposed to go missing. She wasn't supposed to be so troubled by a cabin. She wasn't supposed to be jumping at the sound of doors and dirt. She wasn't supposed to be scared of Edgar.

Betty put her head in her hands and breathed slowly. The fire crackled and popped next to her, but even the orange and red flames twisting in her vision weren't enough to block out the black, beady eyes she could see behind her eyelids.

"Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the nightly shore - tell me what thy... what thy..." Betty let out a frustrated and garbled sigh.

The poem wasn't working. Everything felt like it was crashing in harder now.

She brought her knees up to her chest and pulled the blanket in tighter.

* * *

Veronica perched rigidly on the hard metal stool, waiting for her mother to be brought out. The weekend had been weird; her father had danced around all of her questions about the donation, and he had a disturbing gleeful air about him. She had left more vexed than ever, and she hadn't even been able to talk about it with Archie, as he was spending time with his mother and at the center with TJ. She sighed, at least something good had come out of that whole situation.

And they still hadn't gotten another chance to talk to Jughead. He seemed to have fallen off the map once again. Archie said that he had seen Jughead and FP head to the police station together. Guess he had forgotten about them and decided to be a lone wolf again.

A buzzer rang and Veronica watched as her mother sat down across from her behind the towering wall of glass.

"_Mija_," Hermione breathed. "It's so good to see you. It's been a while."

"Mom…" Veronica began, rubbing a nail on the black phone, "I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get back here, there's been-," she drew out a long breath, "a lot going on."

Hermione tilted the phone in her hand, knitting her brow. "Veronica?" she asked, her voice tender, "What's wrong?"

Veronica tensed, biting the edge of her lip. "Daddy is up to something and I can't figure it out. It's all a giant mess and just as Machiavellian as ever." A heavy lump sat in Veronica's throat. "Except, others… innocents… are getting tangled in the web." She scrunched up her face, turning away, trying not to let her mother see the tears forming.

Hermione pursed her lips and lifted a hand, gingerly pressing her fingers to the glass. "Ronnie," she whispered gently, "What's_ wrong?_"

The mounting sob she had been fighting finally broke free. "I've been trying to be so strong," she hiccupped, tears flowing freely down her cheeks, "But everything is falling apart. Betty's been gone for so long, Jughead is self-destructing and won't talk to us, and I'm responsible for my father. And I was trying to be the strong one for everyone. But I can't…" she faltered, almost dropping the phone out of her trembling grip.

Her mother frowned. "Veronica, honey. Look at me."

Veronica slowly raised her head, staring at her mom through watery eyes. She stifled a small sniffle.

Hermione's eyes held a warm sympathy that melted through the glass. "Cry. Let whatever it is inside you spill out. And then I want you to brush yourself off and stand. Rise against whatever has pushed you down and show them that Lodge ferocity that would send the Devil himself back to Hell."

Veronica gaped at her mother, her blinking eyes now burning with salty tears and gratitude.

"And _Mija_," Hermione continued, placing her palm back up on the glass. "You are not responsible for your father, I am. Just forget about him. And don't worry about me. Your friends need you more than I do."

Veronica's throat closed up a second time as she managed an admiring smile. Did her mother really just tell her she could be loyal to another family? "Thank you, Mom." She brushed away a tear with the back of her hand. "And here I thought I needed to be strong for you, too."

Hermione smiled. "I've had a lot of time to think here. You gain a different perspective being alone with yourself."

Veronica drew in a deep breath and felt a warm trickle replace the tight lump that had been in her chest. She looked around, suddenly aware of the fact there were others in the room. If anyone had noticed her breakdown, they didn't let on. Veronica turned back toward her mother and pressed her hand up against Hermione's, the space between them growing smaller and smaller.

* * *

The air hung thick and heavy over the booths in Pop's diner. A gray beanie lay on one of the tables next to a half-eaten burger and an emptied cup of coffee. Jughead had his face buried in the screen of his laptop, typing away, trying to push away the sullen panic that had become something of a new normal in his mind.

_Remove the thread and the seam starts to unravel. That's what life at present felt like. The very fabric of our lives was ripping, because our thread had been yanked away from us. The four teenagers at the beginning of this story? They were drifting apart, writhing under the pressure and pain of the past few weeks. _

_Archie had tried to reconcile and I had pushed him away again. And he was still running around with his rushed heroics, trying to avoid tripping over his own cape. Veronica had turned her focus back toward a different mystery, cuddling up under the splintered wing of her family. _

_My family wasn't doing much better. Even when we all tried to make it work, it just never seemed to jive the way it should. Maybe all of this was for a lesson life had been trying to repeatedly beat into my head; that there was no control. Maybe we weren't in charge of writing our own stories, but our stories were writing themselves. Our experiences, the threads in our life, wove themselves however they wanted, no matter how hard we tried to change the pattern. _

Jughead lifted his gaze away from the bright screen and looked into the hazy corner of the diner, toward a large corkboard hosting a multitude of flyers. Betty's face smiled at him from the front of a slightly frayed "Missing" poster tacked to the top of the mess of notices. A new poster had been hung next to it, a "Wanted" addendum with a rough sketch of Edgar Evernever peering out from it. Jughead shuddered; even as a drawing, he was unsettling.

_At least we finally had a name. At least now there was something we might be able to change. And for all the imagery and metaphors used in this tale, Betty had in fact been encircled by a real monster. The irony left me sick to my stomach. _

_Like I said, maybe the story is writing itself, and I truly am just the chronicler, forced to watch every calamity and tragedy that befalls this town and its people._

Jughead pulled away and groaned. The words felt sloppy. He couldn't string together his thoughts properly on the page, they were a mess in his head.

After a few days of heavy research and examination with Charles' team, they still only had a name. Jughead hadn't figured out the rest of the clue yet and there were no solid directions; the FBI only extended search parties and rushed re-assignments to a larger cast net of surrounding areas.

He had written down the letters though so he could try to figure it out away from the station without a bunch of officers and agents breathing down his neck. But so far, he still had nothing and he was beating himself up about it; he was just running through a list of any word he could pull out of the puzzle, but none of it felt right.

He also couldn't push the sickening thoughts of Edgar out of his mind; his brain kept flashing to that beastly operating room at the Sisters, to sickly yellow light swinging over dark stains on the surgical table. He sucked in a gasp and shook his head fervently – he wouldn't, no, he _couldn't, _let his mind linger on imaginings as to what Betty might be undergoing. Not now.

He glanced back up at the posters, letting anger seep into his thoughts instead. He turned back to his laptop and scrolled up to the top of his document, staring at the title that he had given the piece.

_Hope for Riverdale. _

The cursor blinked tantalizingly in front of the title. He closed his eyes and watched the black pound behind his eyelids. He lifted his fingers, feeling them hover over the keyboard. He opened his eyes, inserting a small two-letter word in front of the title.

_No Hope for Riverdale. _

Jughead slumped back in his seat and stared out the poster window next to him. The sun was sinking behind the distant mountains, wisps of pink and orange beginning to paint the dying sky. A loud tapping on the table caused him to whip his head around.

"Mind if I join you?"

Charles was standing over the booth holding a plate of food.

Jughead initially scowled and looked away, continuing the cold shoulder treatment that he had been giving Charles the past few days. But then he suddenly thought about how he had messed up with Archie earlier. He turned back and sighed, waving his hand to Charles to sit down. Maybe he could try again.

"I thought you might want some company," Charles said, scooting into the booth across from him and picking up a few fries.

Jughead grunted and stared at his computer, then raised an eyebrow. "Do you have an update?"

Charles' face drooped and he slowed his chew. He shook his head, "No," he said softly, "just a couple more cold trails from some of the teams up north."

"Well, good thing my dad is letting me help again. You could use a real detective," Jughead retorted distantly, closing his laptop.

Charles smiled and bit into his burger. "I'm hoping. I bet Kane twenty bucks that you could figure out the whole case before we could." He swallowed, "Not like I'm ragging on the FBI or my own team, but I just really want to see Kane's face when that happens."

Jughead's lips twitched, but he didn't form a full smile. He still had an unanswered question. "Why were you so mean to my mom the other day?" he asked curtly.

Charles frowned and looked down at the table. "Because she isn't my mom. I haven't had anybody in so long, and then I found Alice, and just like that I had a real family – and a chance it might even get back together. But then came a threat to that."

Might even get back together. That realization immediately diffused the anger in Jughead's mind. "Oh. I didn't know you still… wanted that, at your age."

Charles nodded. "It's all I dreamed about as a foster kid, and I never even had a picture of my parents growing up. That feeling doesn't always go away just because you get older. I'm still just a kid sometimes, wanting his parents."

A lump rose in Jughead's throat and he felt his face grow hot. "Maybe that's why I was so mean to you, too," Jughead choked, "I wanted my family back together, too. I didn't view you as a real part of the family, just a threat."

"Because we have different moms, so one of us will never actually get that wish."

They stared at one another for a few silent minutes, both faces growing red. Jughead was fighting back tears. He knew he was the one that probably wasn't going to get that wish, but that was starting to be okay with him. Charles never even had time with his parents until now. At least he could say otherwise. "I'm sorry, Charles." He picked anxiously at his hat. "I guess we really aren't that much different. Betty tried to tell me that."

"It's okay, Jughead, these things take time." He popped a few fries in his mouth. "How about we start over?" Charles cleared his throat and looked directly at Jughead with a smile on his face, holding out an open hand. "Hello, Jughead, I'm your half-brother Charles. Nice to meet you."

Jughead smiled and wiped his cheeks, extending a hand to Charles. "Hi Charles, welcome to the strangest family ever."

They shook hands and laughed. Jughead pushed his laptop aside and put his beanie back on. He picked up his burger and took a bite, nodding as Charles started into a story about an early assignment with the FBI. As the story ended, Jughead's eyes inadvertently flitted behind Charles and his grin faded. Charles looked over his shoulder, seeing the posters, and turned back with a sympathetic frown.

Jughead leaned back in the booth, staring longingly out the window. The pink and orange had been joined by swirls of red and purple, forming a vibrant sunset that cascaded across the open sky. "Why does something like that have to exist at a time like this?"

Charles looked out the window and took in a deep breath. "It's there to remind us, I think. Remind us that there's still beauty and hope, even when everything around us is trying to paint the world gray."

* * *

"Yet, the sun still sets and rises."

Veronica stepped off of the step ladder and moved backward, taking in the new wall décor. Her portrait had been restored to its rightful place while Hiram's portrait lay carelessly in a corner of the study.

She smiled and walked out into the living room, catching a glimpse of red and orange out one of the windows. She pulled back the shades and leaned against the window frame, allowing herself to stop and drink in the vivid sight above her.

* * *

"The black of the night is caught between the two boldest, stunning displays of light, telling us that the dark doesn't last."

Archie sank down on the edge of his bed and glanced over at the top of his dresser. He reached out and grabbed a picture frame, pulling the photo of him and his dad the night of the variety show close to his chest. He sighed and stroked a thumb over the edge of the photo before placing it back on the dresser.

He crossed the room and grabbed his guitar. Archie rolled the instrument over in his hands then glanced out his open window at the lavish colors slowly spreading in the sky. His eyes wandered to the adjacent house, to the quiet window of a dark bedroom that stared back at him. He lowered his head and swallowed, pulling his desk chair underneath him and his guitar strap over his shoulder.

The words to "I'll Try," swirled up into the colorful canvas of sky as Archie sang to an empty bedroom and a worn picture frame.

* * *

"And we can look up and know that somewhere out there, no matter how far apart we are - our family, our friends - we're all still under the same sky."

Betty sat curled on the couch, the blanket hanging loosely off her shoulders. Dying embers sizzled in the fireplace, sending a few coils of smoke floating through the room.

She closed her eyes and drew her legs to her chest, nestling her forehead on her knees. If she tried, she could still hear the faint murmur of the stream, as well as a few cracks and pops from the darkening forest beyond. A tree branch rustled outside, a flapping of wings and trill of caws echoing near the window.

She looked up, catching the approach of pink and yellow-tinged clouds behind the grim black bars. Betty hugged her knees tighter and shivered as she stared out the window through watery eyes, watching as color and shadow descended over the Canadian wilderness, signaling the start of another lonely night.

* * *

"We're all still together. And nothing and no one can take away that truth."

Charles grew quiet as he leaned back in his seat. Jughead blinked slowly and the two sat in silence, both staring out the large window in front of them. The other customers talked softly around them, their hushed murmurs and the din of the diner bell becoming white noise. Jughead felt a tingle start to spread through him, like warm water coursing down his back, as he watched the sunset deepen and stretch before his eyes. Shadows were falling over the distant mountains, and the trees surrounding the diner swayed gently in the evening breeze.

And for a moment, Betty didn't feel so far away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And another chapter for you! 
> 
> We're getting closer to collision, folks! Things are starting to fall into place and I'm really excited about the next few chapters. 
> 
> Hope you all have been enjoying! Thank you so much for all the kudos and for those of you that have left some comments. If you are enjoying and have thoughts, feel free to leave a comment!


	12. Pandora's box

_Time. One of those great mysteries of the universe. It's perceived differently by everyone at every moment, just as two people on opposite sides of the planet can look up at the same night sky and see different constellations. It's been said to heal all wounds yet also cause wars. Is it a straight line, cyclical, or a ball of string?_

_We could be frozen in time, ahead or behind the times, and even be in double time. So is it an illusion or is it simply something boundless? Regardless of whether we made it up or were trapped within its limits, time felt as though it was both halted and racing forward relentlessly. And we were left entirely and unequivocally at its mercy. _

Jughead was hunched over a desk in the Blue & Gold office scribbling ardently on a scrap piece of paper. The school newspaper had fallen dormant while its editor was missing in action, so Jughead had taken to hiding away in the office when he wanted to be alone during school hours. It was one of the only places in the school he felt like he could still think clearly with everything going on.

He looked at the crumpled note containing the letters from Betty's clue and looked back at his new scribbles, sounding things out on his lips.

_"r a o i t o n"_

After spelling out Edgar, these were the leftover letters. _"_I ran to?" Jughead muttered out loud, holding up his paper. "No, that can't be right." He crossed that out. "Not in? No, there's only one 'n'." He crossed that out angrily, too.

He stared down at it some more and let out a frustrated grunt. Why couldn't he figure this out? Why was this so hard?

He pulled open the drawer closest to him and looked down. Betty's laptop was stowed inside and he tapped his fingers on top of it. He sighed; Nancy Drew had managed to leave a breadcrumb, a crafty one too, but Jughead wasn't as clever as she.

The bell rang and he stuffed the crumpled notes into his bag. He strode over to the door but stopped and let his gaze hover back to the drawer. He walked back over and tapped his fingers once on the desk then quickly pulled the laptop out of the drawer and placed it into his bag; he would finally take it home today, the place it was supposed to be headed all along.

* * *

The fire crackled and popped, its red and orange flames dancing and twisting into the air above the grate. An ember hissed and spat, shooting out of the fireplace and onto the floor in front of Betty. She stared down at the smoldering cinder, vacantly watching as it sizzled out.

She felt cold despite the proximity to the fire. She was fighting cycles of feeling overwhelmed and feeling numb, and the bouts of numbness had been growing longer and deeper over the past few days. Her stomach clenched and twisted at random moments, and a few nights she had even woken up grasping at her throat, the itch of dirt trickling down her neck.

There was a rattling at the door and Edgar walked inside, once more carrying a hood and needle in his hands. He knelt down beside her.

"Good afternoon, Betty, how are you today?"

Betty continued to stare at the fire.

Edgar bobbed his head and stood up, heading into the kitchen. "Let's put that fire out for now, shall we? Don't want it to get out of hand while we're gone." He walked back over with a glass of water and tossed it over the flames. Betty realized that the fire had made some difference, as she suddenly shuddered now that the November chill was promptly creeping back into the room.

Edgar knelt back down and produced the needle out in front of him. "Betty, I have to put you under again," he said, reaching toward the blanket around her.

"Just do it," she said wearily, slowly turning her head toward Edgar and dropping the blanket away from her arm.

He smiled and slid the needle into her arm. "If you're this good the whole time, I may just let you stay awake for the trip back."

Betty closed her eyes and listened to the hiss of the dying fire, letting the approaching blackness wash over her.

* * *

Veronica pushed open the door to Pop's and yawned, coming up to lean against the front counter. "Hey Pop, can I get an order to go? And a really big cup of coffee?"

Pop looked up from his notepad and smiled at the young woman. "Veronica! Haven't seen you around much lately." He poured a to-go cup and slid it across the counter. "It's felt mighty empty in here without you four around."

Veronica frowned and crossed her hands on the countertop. "Sorry, Pop, ever since I handed over the speakeasy responsibilities to Reggie, I haven't really had a lot of reasons to come in. It just… hasn't felt right to me, either."

He sighed and gave her a sympathetic nod. "I'll get your order ready. It'll be a few minutes." He disappeared through the doors to the kitchen, leaving Veronica to herself in the front of the sleepy diner. She looked along the counter and was startled to see a patch reading, "Lodge Detention Center" down the row.

"Mr. Keller?" Veronica exclaimed, walking over to him, "You're working at my dad's prison?"

Tom wiped his hands and turned toward her. "Hello to you too, Veronica. And yes I am. Thought it about time to get back in the game."

Veronica plopped down in the seat next to him. "But at my dad's prison?"

He sighed, "Work is work, Veronica."

She nodded to the side. Then a thought started to grow inside her mind, and a smile curled at the corner of her mouth. "Well," she said, drawing out the word, "that _does _put you on the inside…"

"No," Tom shot back quickly, wiping his mouth with a napkin.

Veronica stuck out her lip. "Come on, Mr. Keller, you didn't even know what I was going to say."

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Oh no? You weren't going to ask me if I might have seen or overheard anything? Something suspicious or dubious perhaps?"

Veronica blinked, continuing to bat her eyes at him.

Tom raised his mug to his mouth and stared back at the teen.

"Well?"

"Veronica!" Tom said exasperatedly, a coy smile tugging at the edge of his mouth now. "You really think your father's up to something, don't you?" he asked a bit quieter.

"He's always up to something," Veronica scoffed. "He pulled strings from behind bars the last time he was in prison. His reach extended to Riverdale from a federal prison in New York. And now after someone made Decision of the Year by putting him in his own prison, there's no way he's not up to something."

Mr. Keller put down his drink and looked over his shoulder, then leaned closer to her and sighed. "Alright. Well, I have noticed that Hiram's got himself a little band of followers, and he's ruffing up his own security detail. And our training's been an absolute joke."

Veronica recoiled slightly, knitting her brow. "Hmm," she tapped her fingers along the counter. "He's collecting loyalty, is he? First he releases a prisoner and now this?"

"He what?" Tom almost choked on an onion ring.

"Veronica, here's your order!" Pop emerged from the back carrying a white bag.

She took it from him with a smile and turned back to Tom. "Mr. Keller, we'll have to discuss this further at a later time. Maybe somewhere a little more private. Have a good rest of your night!"

She scurried out of the diner, leaving Tom Keller shaking his head and staring after her quizzically.

* * *

"Up! Feign left, duck, now side jab!" Archie called as TJ landed a punch on his mitt, sending him faltering back a bit. "Nice moves!" He smiled, pulling off his mitt and giving TJ a high-five.

TJ threw a teasing punch into Archie's side. "Thanks!"

Archie laughed and raised his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. "Let's take a breather."

He looked back and found TJ staring wide-eyed at him. "What?"

TJ pointed towards Archie's chest and he glanced down, quickly dropping and smoothing out his shirt. "Oh yeah, those. They're from a bear."

"You fought a bear?" TJ sounded in awe. "That's so cool!"

Archie hopped down from the ring and turned back to help TJ down. "Cool isn't the word I would've used to describe it, but I guess I do _look _cool now, don't I?" He chuckled and led TJ to a cluster of couches and chairs in a corner of the room. TJ flopped down on a beanbag chair while Archie grabbed both of them waters.

"So," Archie said between gulps, "how's this week been?"

TJ leaned back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling, juggling his water bottle. "Fine, I guess. It was mostly good, but Dad came home really angry last night. And he smelled like the bar."

Archie frowned. "Did anything happen?"

TJ shrugged and turned over, "No, he just yelled a lot and locked himself in the bedroom. I had to make myself dinner." He resumed juggling his water bottle.

Archie leaned back in his seat. Maybe they should think about doing a community potluck sometime in the future, or at least a pizza night. He made a mental note to discuss that some time with Mad Dog.

"You know, one of my friends went through something similar to you not too long ago. His mom was living in a different state and his dad was a mess, coming back smelling like the bar a lot, too. It was so bad at one point that he stopped living with his dad."

"What happened?" TJ asked, shifting his body to face Archie.

"My dad took him in and I got a roommate." Archie smiled, "And then his dad ended up realizing how bad it had gotten and put in a lot of work to get better. Now he's a cop." TJ didn't look convinced. "So maybe your dad's not so great at the moment, but he can get better. But he has to make that choice himself." Archie ran a hand through his hair, watching TJ's reactions. "What else does your dad do? Do you have anything in common?"

TJ scrunched his eyebrows together, thinking about that for a moment. "We both cry sometimes."

Archie's heart sank. He dropped from the couch, positioning himself on the ground next to TJ. "Because of your mom. It still stings, doesn't it?"

TJ had been staring at the ground and when he turned to look at Archie, his eyes were red. "I just want to hug her again."

Archie bit his lip; he could feel his eyes starting to water too. "I know how that feels, it's hard. I lost my dad a few months ago and I still cry. I just want to talk to him one last time."

"I still talk to my mom," TJ sniffed, wiping his eyes. "I talk to her every night before bed."

"Oh yeah?" Archie asked softly, crossing his legs. "Does she say anything back?"

He shook his head slowly. "No, but I like to believe she can still hear me."

Archie's lip quivered and he looked over into the office. A picture of Fred hung in the window and he could see it from where they were sitting. "Yeah," he clamped a hand on TJ's shoulder. "I bet she can."

He stayed there for a moment and wiped his own eyes. He took another look at his dad's picture, then turned to TJ. "Come on, let's get back in the ring." Archie sprung up and reached a hand down. "Wanna learn how to fight a bear?"

* * *

Jughead walked through the front door to his house and began trotting up the steps, but stopped and backtracked, turning to look into the living room. FP, Gladys, and Jellybean were all sitting around the coffee table. There was a suitcase at Gladys' feet.

"What's going on?" Jughead asked leerily, stepping into the room.

"Jughead, come sit down, son," FP said, motioning him toward the couch next to Jellybean. He sat down hesitantly, casting a glance at his sister. She gave him a nervous look back.

"Kids, your mother and I have been talking a lot over the past few days," FP began, tossing Gladys an occasional glance. "We've been asking ourselves about what it is we've really been looking for, what pictures of the family we've been holding onto. And we mutually agreed upon the fact that we've been holding onto a picture that never existed, a frame that can't be repaired in the way we wanted, if you will."

"And both of us are okay with that. No one is to blame for anything, no matter what happened in the past," Gladys joined in, looking between Jughead and Jellybean. "We're just growing up and growing apart." She glanced at FP. "The puzzle piece is a bit bent and battered and just doesn't quite fit in place anymore."

Jughead placed his chin in his hands, his eyes darting between his parents. "Are you saying you're splitting?"

FP gave a small nod. "We are. But with no hurt, no hard feelings. We both initially thought we wanted the family back together, and we still do! But what we realize now is that together doesn't always mean physically together. And what we were actually looking for was closure."

"So you're leaving again?" JB stammered, a quiver forming on her lip.

Gladys reached over and laid a hand on her knee. "I am, baby. My life isn't in Riverdale anymore."

"But your life is with us!" Jellybean cried.

"Always, JB, always. Which is why we're giving you two a choice." Gladys looked between JB and Jughead. "I didn't give you one last time, I just left, and I know you felt abandoned."

"You're a part of this too, kids, we didn't want to make all the final decisions," FP chimed in. "So, if you would like, you can decide where you would like to go - if you want to stay here in Riverdale or go with your mother."

"I'm not going anywhere," Jughead asserted.

Gladys nodded. "We figured as much, but we still wanted you to know that you had the choice."

Jughead let his face relax slightly. He did appreciate that.

"JB? What about you?" Gladys softened her gaze.

Jellybean looked at Jughead, then darted her eyes between FP and Gladys.

"Mom," she started, "I love you, but I think I need to stay here too. Jughead needs a sister."

Gladys sucked her lip and looked down. Jughead looked at his sister. She had tears in her eyes and she leaned into him for a side hug. He looked up at FP, who's eyes were a bit harder to read.

Gladys rubbed her hands on her knees and stood, FP quickly following. "I'm headed back to Toledo tonight. No more junkyard though, I found a nice little apartment. Any of you are welcome to visit any time." She looked at FP as she walked to the door. "Any of you."

FP nodded briskly, then stepped aside as Jellybean rushed around him and into her mom's arms. Gladys wrapped her in a hug back and Jughead joined. As they pulled away, Jughead asked, "So, what are you going to do?"

Gladys wiped her eyes, "Honestly I'm thinking about taking online classes, maybe trying to get a real business degree." She smiled.

"That sounds good," Jughead returned the smile. He went in for another hug. "I'll definitely take you up on your offer."

"Oh, Jughead." She rubbed his back. "Everything's going to work out. Keep me updated, okay?"

He nodded and they pulled apart, smiling through watery eyes at each other. Gladys grabbed her suitcase and opened the front door. She turned around and gave Jellybean another hug before looking at FP. "Stay golden, old man."

FP put his hands on his hips and smirked at her. The door shut and the three Jones' were left standing in a quiet foyer. FP put his arms around JB and Jughead, "We're still a family no matter what. Even if we're not under the same roof, we'll always be a family."

* * *

Orange lanterns lined the grounds of the Thornhill cemetery, their flames mixing with the silver moonlight streaming down through the thick trees surrounding the grove. Cheryl stood in a billowy black dress above an open grave, holding one of the lanterns over a cherry wood casket that glowed faintly under the flicker of the flame.

Toni gently paced next to her, stopping every now and then to glance toward the small path leading up to the shrouded cemetery.

Cheryl turned her head as footsteps sounded against the small stone walkway. Kevin strode up with his hands in his pockets, an incensed frown on his face.

"Why'd you invite me here, Cheryl?" he asked, glancing down at the dug-up grave. "Are you having a funeral?"

"Kevin, thank you for coming." Cheryl chimed, setting down the lantern. "And yes, for JJ."

Kevin huffed, "He already had one. And why am I the only one here beside you two?"

"The first one doesn't count, that one was under my parent's malevolent shadow and none of us could properly grieve. So, now we're here to grieve." She put a hand on Toni's shoulder and gave Kevin a sad plead. "Just stay and listen, okay? We wanted another friend with us."

He snorted a second time, but nodded, positioning himself at the end of the grave. Cheryl stepped forward and straightened up, casting a glance up at the moon before beginning.

"Jason," Cheryl started, her voice soft and sorrowful, "you were the best brother there was. You showed me how to protect and care for others, especially when they didn't know they needed to be cared for." Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and she began sniffling. She glanced over at Kevin, who was still staring stone-faced at the grave.

"I never got a real chance to say goodbye. Life's curious that way; we always think there's more time - that there's another day always around the corner where we'll see a smile or hear a laugh. But time flutters away, leaving behind only a distant echo of what was. The smiles become ghastly grins and the laughter a whispered wind and nothing more."

Cheryl's sniffling was now joined by a few broken hiccups coming from Kevin. His mouth was drawn tight and his shoulders looked tense, but they were quivering. Toni walked over and pulled him close. The pale moonlight and soft flicker of the lanterns threw a strange crisscross of shadows and light around the small cemetery, and one stray moonbeam glistened with the silent, heavy tears falling around the open grave.

"You just wanted a life away from the Gothic bedlam that comes with being a Blossom, however that life was stolen from you. The dark hole left in my heart after that day has followed me, and it seems like it's spilled out all over the town. It's just been a cycle of loss and hurt since you left, Jason. But today that cycle ends." She bent down and picked up a handful of dirt as she cried, then tossed it onto the shining casket below. "Today I fill in the space between us and as this dirt fills your grave, so it fills up my heart, and once again we can share in something." Cheryl felt a warmth slip between her fingers, and she squeezed Toni's hand back.

"Intertwined we were, intertwined we still are. May you rest in peace, JJ."

Toni stepped forward and tossed in another handful of dirt. She turned around and guided a now sniveling Kevin toward the pile of dirt. He bent down and shoved a hand into the soft earth, but then he stopped and just blinked at the pile. Suddenly, Kevin's knees hit the ground and he shoved both hands into the dirt, squeezing at the dark soil. A deep sob escaped his lips and tears trickled down his face, little puddles of mud forming where they landed.

Cheryl immediately dropped beside him, placing a gentle hand on his back. Toni had come up on Kevin's other side, a look of distress on her face.

"Kevin?" Toni asked softly. He had rocked backward and was now sitting in the grass, wringing his muddy hands together while staring blankly ahead. His mouth opened and a cracked whisper came out.

Cheryl frowned, leaning forward toward Kevin. His mouth was moving, but he seemed to have lost his voice. Finally, he took a deep breath and repeated his words.

"I never got to say goodbye, either."

"To Jason?" Cheryl raised an eyebrow.

"No, no," Kevin breathed, curling his fingers and staring down at the ground. "Everything happened so quickly. I never got to say goodbye, I never got to say anything really. To Joaquin. He was just gone." Another wave of tears started rolling down his face. Cheryl and Toni both leaned back and sat down with him. Moonbeams had fallen scattered over the cemetery, the shadows from clouds and tree branches shimmering amidst the silver light.

"And then Midge died and Moose left, and my parents split, and everything just… fell apart. There was no time to process, to grieve. I just spiraled. Everyone was leaving me, and the only ones that seemed to notice were Evelyn and Edgar."

Cheryl and Toni exchanged a quick glance, then Toni rubbed Kevin's arm. "We know."

Kevin looked between the two of them with a tear-stained face. "I thought they understood me. I thought they were making me stronger, but they were just numbing me to the truth. I mean, they manipulated all of us to think we needed them. But this-," he gestured his head toward Jason's grave, "-this is the truth. Because the truth is that they left, too, they hurt us. They used our pain, our pasts. They were always planning to leave us even more broken than before."

He looked down at the ground and wiped a hand across his face. "I wanted this pain to be gone so badly that I was just too prideful to see it. I was trying to hang onto something that was never there."

He hiccupped and whimpered through another small sob. Cheryl looked over at the grave, a fresh tear rolling down her cheek. "Kevin, we were all tricked by that demon, don't blame yourself. Things that he did... you're not the only one who held onto something." Cheryl looked over at Toni, who gave her a warm smile.

"But I was such a jerk, Cheryl!" Kevin yelled, rubbing a muddy hand over his face. "You were right that day at school, I _was_ taking my pain out on everyone. I didn't mean what I said, I-I don't know why I lashed out like that. I guess I was in denial about everything." He closed his eyes and a small gust of wind swirled the hair hanging over his forehead. "Betty cared about me the whole time and I pushed her away. When Jughead started talking about how good a friend she was at the rally, and how she asked for all of us to become her family, all I could think about was the night she tried to get us out of The Farm and how she needed a friend then, but what did I do? I literally attacked her and dragged her right to Edgar." He glanced uneasily at Jason's casket. "And now she's gone too, dragged right back to Edgar. And for all we know, she might not even be alive. And I might never get to say sorry. I'll never get to say goodbye."

Kevin started sobbing again and Cheryl felt as though someone had just plunged something into her chest. That thought had crossed her mind – she figured it had crossed a lot of people's minds – but this was the first time she heard someone dare to say it out loud. Toni had risen and was now holding her arms, keeping her eyes away from Jason's grave.

Cheryl stood up and brushed herself off, sticking a hand down to Kevin. "Betty's still alive," she said with less confidence than she had liked. Kevin didn't seem to notice the slip, as he grabbed her hand and pulled himself up. "We have to believe that she's okay. We won't have to say goodbye."

She ushered Kevin over to the edge of Jason's grave and grabbed another handful of dirt, placing it in Kevin's hand. "And for her sake, let's try to finally let go of all those ties we have to Edgar's lies. Starting here."

Cheryl smiled up at Kevin and he gave her a weak smile back. He looked down and threw the handful of dirt on top of the casket, then backed away and stood next to Toni. Cheryl let her gaze linger at the grave before straightening up and passing shovels to Kevin and Toni. "May Jason, and every wound his death beget, finally be laid to rest."

* * *

_Drip_.

The sluggish dribble of a water droplet met Betty's ears as she slowly awoke.

A damp chill pierced the air, seeping its way through her clothes. She inhaled an icy breath and blinked, rolling her sagging head forward. A musty stench tickled her nose, causing her to sneeze. Her hair hung in her eyes but she could still make out fuzzy shapes around the room. She shook her head and squinted against the harsh fluorescent light that flooded the room, throwing everything around her into a cold, sterile glow.

There was a small flight of steps in front of her, curving into a steeper, dingy stairwell, and neglected boxes and shelves lined most of the walls while a long, white standing freezer was tucked into one of the corners. The faint, droning hum of a large refrigerator whirred through an open door to the right.

Betty felt ice spreading through her veins and trickling down her arms, freezing her quivering fingertips. She stretched her fingers and felt something coarse scratch her arms. She looked down, blinking as she came to realize her present situation. She was sitting in a chair in the middle of the room with her wrists tied down.

"You've never seen this place in person, have you?"

She looked up as Edgar suddenly appeared in the open doorway. He was leaning casually up against the door frame, his perverse calm adding to the unease of the room's atmosphere. "Only ever from behind a video screen?" He continued his question, a curious tone in his voice.

She didn't look at him but continued to stare around the rundown basement, the ice in her body still coursing.

"It's rather providential that this place is still standing. I heard it had been bought up and set to be demolished and yet, here it is, still standing. Perhaps waiting for you." He had walked into the room and was standing directly in front of her now.

_Drip. _Water was falling somewhere in an unknown corner.

Edgar pulled out a small tape recorder from his pocket and placed it on the ground between them.

Betty's eyes widened as she stared at it, "Why… why do you have that?" she asked in a whisper.

"Oh, it's just for my records, to go along with all the other testimonies." He smiled, pressing the record button.

Betty tensed. He hadn't brought that with them before.

"When trying to figure out the sources and causes of trauma in someone, the path usually leads backward through different points of conflict and pain, much like how we've been revisiting certain places." Edgar began to pace steadily back and forth. "But there are branches and there are roots. What we've visited so far were only branches – symptoms that grow out of a root. And so I knew I had to find that root for you, Betty, and after studying and hearing parts of your story and that from others, it became clear - we had to go back to the very beginning."

Betty gulped and looked down at the floor. Under the harsh glow from the light above, she thought she could just make out a thin dark line snaking across the floor. She told herself it was just a watermark.

Edgar placed his hands in his pockets and continued, continued in that horrible rhythmic tenor of his. "One infinitesimal moment in time can become the backdrop for the rest of our lives, stuck replaying in our heads, the framework by which we understand everything else." He looked past Betty into the dark corners of the room. "Take the viewing of a solemn, silent video clip for example; no one knew the extent of the ripples it would cause, ripples that flowed through Pickens Park and Thornhill, ripples that are still flowing to this day."

An unpleasant tightness was griping Betty's chest, and she could feel her chin begin to quiver. She was alarmingly aware of the sharp burn of the ropes digging into her wrists, and her insides felt like paper. The piercing sound of a water droplet was ricocheting around the room.

"Finding that video did something to you, didn't it? It may have yielded answers to an open case, but at what cost? The first wound opened, the original trauma. If I had to guess, Betty," Edgar said, kneeling in front of her, "this was your point of no return."

She hiccupped a sob. He was right. It had revealed the answer to Jason's murder, but it had also released something, as if some primeval spirit had crawled out from the depths of that video and into the world without her noticing. That harrowing image of Jason being shot by his own father had stirred a deep sorrow that had never faded but instead sat aching, gnawing in the back of her mind.

Edgar slowly rose and as Betty looked up, he seemed taller than normal. "Is it haunting, Betty? To have stepped through the veil and into Jason's place? To have watched such a young man, a child, be drained of life right before your eyes in this very spot?"

Betty felt something drip onto her pants. Was it the leaking water? Was it her tears?

"Edgar, stop…" she blearily pleaded.

But he didn't. Edgar leisurely paced around, ignoring her pleas, and continued with his commentary. "Everything started after this point. The pendulum stirred and a cycle was set in motion. So much pain, so much death entered your life after this. All the places we've been, they all originated here. Your path is forever intertwined with this point in time, this lingering whisper that calls to you through your dreams, beckoning you to come back." He stopped, facing the open doorway to the right and reached inside his coat. "Which is why it has to end here."

He slowly pulled his hand out from his coat, revealing a shining revolver, and pointed it directly at Betty.

A mournful cry burst from her lips and she instinctively started straining against the ropes around her wrists. An itch had started on her neck but she couldn't reach it. The stale air flooded her nose and her eyes burned, the harsh sheen from the gun blinding her. The galling dripping slowed to a thunderous hum, ringing in her ears.

Is this what it had felt like for Jason?

Betty turned her head slowly toward the back corner of the basement, forcing her eyes up as she shook. There, in the crook of the back wall was a small cavity, a few fraying wires sticking out of it.

She gulped in a breath, tears sliding down her cheeks, a phantom red light slowly blinking behind her eyes. At least there would be no footage to be found this time, no echo of her torment left for her friends to find.

But would they ever know?

Betty turned back, staring at the tape slowly spinning inside the recorder sitting on the floor. She closed her eyes and let the tears rush freely down her face, waiting for the telltale pop of the trigger.

Was this moment doomed to vanish into time and shadow, its desperate cry tumbling endlessly through the dark as Jason's once had? Would her friends and family have to guess how death had greeted her, how her final moments had been spent?

"I'm just a kid, Edgar," Betty cried weakly, "Don't do this, I'm just a kid."

"That's right," Edgar gloated, "You're just a child. You are, and always have been, just a scared little kid in over her head."

Something strikingly cold pressed up against her forehead. Betty winced at the chill and icy tendrils were suddenly coiling back down her skin. Everything was flashing all at once in her head – places, eyes, smiles, laughs, cries, frowns, pain, death. Everything. All at once.

"It's my fault," came her startled croak, spitting out the hysterical confession that had fallen like an eclipse over her mind. "Oh God, it's all my fault."

For an agonizingly long moment, the gun remained against her forehead, but then the pressure lifted and it was pulled away. Edgar slowly dropped down in front of her. "What's that?" he asked smugly.

Betty coughed out a distorted cry and shook her head, trying to shake away the icy grip that was still prickling on her forehead. She opened her eyes and even through blurred vision, she could see the mirth twinkling in Edgar's eyes.

"I found the video. I brought all the hurt, all the darkness on everyone. I opened the box," Betty sobbed, her nose running, "I opened the box."

"Ah, there it is," Edgar gently drawled, smiling triumphantly. "You've finally understood."

He bent down and picked up the tape recorder, stopping it.

Betty let out a winced gasp. Edgar looked back at her sadly and frowned. "There's no need to cry, I wasn't going to shoot you." He patted under her chin. "Shhh, it's alright," he hushed. "This was the only way to get you to see, to understand. It's over now."

He reached down and began untying her hands. Betty stared straight ahead, pulling in agitated breaths.

"My time as your guide is drawing to a close," Edgar continued, ripping away the last of the rope. "I have led you through the necessary trials, now it's your turn to wrestle alone and decide what threshold to cross. You can stop the cycle, Betty."

He pulled her shaking frame upright and smiled. "You've been so good today, how would you like to stay awake for the trip home, hm?"

Betty didn't look at him, she could only stare at the dirty wall behind him. She reached up and rubbed her neck.

He continued, "It will help you feel just how far you've come. But you do still have to wear this."

Edgar grabbed the hood from one of the shelves and pulled it over Betty's head. The glaring light was swallowed up and the dripping faded as he directed her up the small staircase and out the basement door. She stumbled through the dark until they came up to what must've been the car and she was gently pushed onto the backseat.

Betty trembled, pressing herself into the seat. The car started and lurched as they drove off. She whimpered; maybe it was for the best she was leaving Riverdale, maybe now she couldn't hurt anyone anymore.

* * *

_Time. _

_It's perceived differently by everyone at every moment, just as two people on opposite sides of the planet can look up at the same night sky and see different constellations._

_Whether it was consciously acknowledged or not, we all felt like we were running out of time. And a question nagged and persisted - did we need to go backward to move forward? Trying to push forward felt like a constant dead-end, as if a wall was set up in the middle of the road so we would be forced to turn around and check the signs for a new path. Maybe we needed to start paying attention to this question._

_Going backward meant drawing back the curtains on all the stuffy and cobweb-riddled rooms in our minds. Facing the things we've convinced ourselves we needed to store away and run from. I wonder what long-forgotten relics and chests would be revealed under the swirling dust sparkling under the newly allowed light? Was embracing the ghosts the answer to moving forward? These were the questions that kept me up in the middle of the night in an empty-feeling, cobwebbed room of my own. And I'm sure I wasn't the only one. _

_The middle of the night soon turned to morning, pulling back the curtain to a new day, but the shadows from the rooms followed too. The gossamer threads from the relic rooms wouldn't shake away. Our paranoia was still growing, and now the wind was shifting. And that in itself begged an entirely other question - in whose favor?_

Soft morning light trickled through the bare trees and onto the gravel path as the cruiser rolled to a stop. FP slammed the door shut, peering into the expanse of woods stretching out before him. He swallowed and began walking down the lightly worn path through the trees and bushes, running his fingers over the inked words on the crumpled piece of paper he held in his hand.

Betty was a tough girl, FP knew that, but he wasn't sure how long her physical and mental stamina could hold, especially one-on-one against a lunatic who was no doubt bent on revenge. She was just a kid after all; she should never have had to endure something like this. All of the teens had been through things they never should have had to experience at their young age.

FP watched the branches rustle in the whistling wind. Autumn was aging and FP kicked through a pile of red and brown leaves that swirled at his feet.

Becoming the sheriff had been a blessing - FP felt he was finally playing an active part in the fight against the injustice in the town, but it also came with its fair share of curses. One of those being that now anytime his phone rang he held his breath. His fear was that any call could be about Jughead or Jellybean, or even about Archie or Veronica, just as one had been about Betty.

He sighed to himself; he never thought his paternal protection would extend to a whole host of kids in Riverdale, but now that he was the sheriff, and especially now that Fred was gone, he felt a deeper sense of responsibility.

Which is why he was trying everything he possibly could to make damn sure Betty came home. And the initial goose chase seemed like one of the threads that was discarded too soon. Chic's red herring had shaken everyone so much that no one had thought to revisit this particular part of the mystery, so FP thought it best to at least try another look. Maybe going back to the beginning was the answer to end this whole mess.

FP approached the cabin and looked up at its looming frame as he climbed the small steps. The initial police examination after finding Chic's body had yielded nothing, but something about his death still nagged at FP. Even now knowing about Edgar, this portion of the abduction just didn't quite add up.

The creep was methodical. That's what he had gathered from everything so far. The guy had managed to quietly disappear with an entire group of people with almost no traces as to where. That is, no traces until Betty had managed to leave one.

FP walked around the small interior of the cabin, stopping to crouch down in the middle of the floor. The chair was still there, but all of the blood had been cleaned up.

Maybe that's why despite all of his thoroughness, Edgar had left the hole in the middle of the park; maybe Betty had thrown him off and broken his tedious concentration, thus providing another clue from them on top of her message in a bottle.

FP cracked a small smile; months of nothing but cold trails and dead ends on the case with The Farm, and then, even as a missing person, Betty was still solving cases for them. You couldn't keep a good detective down.

His smile turned to a grimace. Although, he also couldn't help but wonder if Betty had paid for that little tip, if maybe the blood they had found had been from more than just an accidental cut or scrape. And on top of that, there was still the troubling question as to why Edgar had taken the teen there and left a hole in the first place.

He stood up and shook the thought off, walking back outside. FP tramped over the hard ground as he circled the exterior of the cabin. It was so quiet now, so pristine. The police had cleaned up all signs of Chic, and there had been no fingerprints or footprints or anything else found onsite. All of the evidence had been disposed of and wrapped up neatly, just how Edgar liked it.

And yet something was still so wrong about this. Edgar had taken Betty during the night, but Chic hadn't shown up until after noon the next day. If the scramble had been created as a diversion to keep everyone off of his trail, then waiting around to shoot Chic seemed counterproductive. And, while psychotic, Edgar didn't seem the theatrical type. At least not the type of dramatic theatrics the goose chase with Chic warranted. All of the moody candles and white outfits in the pictures he had seen were a different story.

No, something still didn't add up. FP scanned the woods surrounding the cabin and let out a frustrated yell. There was a hole in the story as Jughead would say.

FP circled back to his cruiser and sighed. Even after multiple attempts to get him to clear his head and focus, FP could see that Jughead was still so close to the case he couldn't see the forest for the trees. Thankfully the anagram Betty had left gave him something concrete to focus on; hopefully, it would serve as the grounding agent that all of the talks and thinking space just couldn't quite give him.

He ducked into the car and started the ignition. He looked at the note in his hand one last time before throwing it onto the seat next to him. Hopefully Jughead was having better luck, hopefully, he would find something that would fill this nagging hole.

* * *

Alice paced back and forth down one of the long hallways in the school building, taking caution to keep her footsteps fairly quiet.

Edgar had come back earlier in the day with a gratified and almost greedy look about him. He had gathered everyone together and triumphantly announced that the time had come to prepare for another purification and that the new followers were ready to join the elders in ascendance.

And that terrified Alice. That almost certainly meant something had happened to Betty. And now Edgar wanted to cover his tracks.

And she hadn't been able to do anything about it. Again. But that didn't mean she couldn't do anything now. If Edgar had indeed traveled back to Riverdale, then she had to find her way there immediately. And she had to stop The Farm from moving again with all the kids still here. But she also couldn't tip them off or that would just endanger everyone.

So Alice had figured out what she needed to do in order to act urgently yet still remain undercover. And an opportunity was fast approaching.

Penelope had appeared from one of the rooms down the hall and was turned around. Alice took the chance to dart around the corner. As she heard footsteps draw closer, she straightened up and turned the corner, humming to herself and looking absently around the hall. She collided with Penelope.

"Oh!" Alice called apologetically, watching Penelope's purse spill over the ground. "I didn't see you there. So sorry, here let me help you." She stooped down and began to collect the spilled items.

Penelope growled and slapped her hand away. "No, Alice. I'll take care of this." She hurriedly shoved everything into her purse and stood up. "What's one more mess to clean up," she muttered to herself.

Alice noticed a small flash of silver metal inside Penelope's bag as they both straightened up. She got a sinking feeling as she narrowed her eyes at Penelope. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Just off to have a little bit of fun." Alarms started ringing in Alice's head. "This place doesn't offer much of that and thankfully I'm not bound by that little curfew Edgar's set in place," Penelope crooned, smiling as she hefted the purse back over her arm. "Ta ta Alice, hope your night isn't too drab."

Alice smiled and watched Penelope disappear around the corner. As soon as her footsteps faded far enough away, she shuffled against the wall and looked down anxiously at her hand, clutching the small black phone close to her chest. She punched in a number she knew by heart and lifted the phone to her ear. But then she almost dropped it when, instead of a real voice, what immediately played was her daughter's voicemail.

She pulled the phone away and tried to hold back the fear that was rising in her chest. There were footsteps approaching and she had no desire to explain why she was crying to one of the yuppies here. Alice quickly wiped her eyes and turned around, coming face-to-face with a grinning Edgar.

All of her fear was immediately replaced by something else entirely now.

How dare he wear that Godforsaken smile. How dare he even show his face. Not only could this man not even be bothered to bat an eye as he wheeled innocent people into illegal surgeries, but apparently he also had no problem feeling joy in the presence of mothers whose child he'd just harmed. What a monster.

Alice forced every muscle in her face to form a smile back at him as she gingerly slid the phone into her pocket, knowing that as soon as she was able, she would call for the hunters.

* * *

"Hi, Dad. Sorry it's been so long since we've talked." Archie brushed a small pile of leaves away from the headstone and leaned back so he was crouched down in front of it. "Everything's been so crazy."

Archie stared at the ground, watching the grass gently swirl in the breeze. The sun was setting overhead and the whole cemetery was cast in a golden haze.

"Mom's back. For good this time I think, and Veronica and I are doing well. They both think about you a lot, too." He fiddled with his gloves and took a deep breath. "I met a kid at the community center. His name is TJ. He lost a parent too and reminded me that I haven't talked to you in a while." Archie scrunched up his face, fighting the lump in his throat.

"I'm really trying to be strong, Dad, but who am I kidding? Things actually aren't that great. Jughead won't listen to me. I remember at one point in time, he reminded me that just trying to talk to each other went a long way but now he won't listen to his own advice." He sniffed and leaned forward. "And I'm really worried about Betty. We have no idea what she's been going through, and well-," he wiped his nose on his sleeve, "-if anything happens, I really don't want her to die alone."

He looked up at Fred's headstone and rocked forward, throwing an arm over the top of it.

"You always knew what to say. You always knew what to do in situations like this. And I don't know how you did it." Tears splashed onto the grass at Archie's feet. "Every time I try to think through, like, really think through how to go about all these problems, I just choke up. So I've just been blocking them out every time something threatens to overwhelm. How'd you stay so calm, Dad? How'd you make all the tough decisions?"

Archie leaned into the stone, wind and tears stinging his face. "I miss you so much. I hope you can hear me, Dad. I know it sounds silly, but if you can, could you send me a sign? I need a direction. I love you so much and I don't know how to do this without you."

_Whoop, whoop! _

Archie lifted his head and squinted through blurry eyes toward the street. The sheriff's cruiser was pulling up right outside of the cemetery.

He jogged over as FP rolled his window down, wiping the last of the tears from his eyes. "Hey, Mr. Jones, what are you doing here?"

"Just heading back to the station. I've been out all day retracing steps." He regarded Archie with a despondent look. "Just trying to figure out what to do next."

"Yeah," Archie answered, looking back over his shoulder into the cemetery, "Me too."

FP followed his gaze. "I miss your dad, too, Archie. I hope you know that you're always welcome at my house, no matter where you and Jughead may stand. Your dad always looked after my boy, now I'm going to make sure I look after his."

Archie nodded, pushing back another wave of tears. "Thank you, Mr. Jones. Speaking of Jughead," he said, a sudden realization coming to him, "do you know where he is? I think I need to try talking to him again."

FP shook his head. "Not entirely sure. He left on his bike earlier today. His mom left yesterday, did you know that?" Archie shook his head. "Yeah, I can't tell if he's upset or relieved. Either way, he's been putting all his time into figuring out the rest of the clue from Betty."

Archie cocked his head, his eyes widening, "What? Betty left a clue?"

FP looked at Archie in shock. "Wow, you two really _haven't_ been speaking. We found her FBI badge in Pickens Park with an anagram on it. That's how we found out Edgar's name, but we haven't been able to figure out the rest."

Archie's heart was racing. He pulled away and started to jog away from the cruiser.

"Hey!" FP called out his window, "You need a ride somewhere?"

"No!" Archie shouted back, pulling his phone out of his pocket as he went, "I've got the truck. I'm going to find Jughead, I think I know where he might be."

He stumbled as he reached the truck. As he pulled open the driver's side door, he paused, taking a moment to glance through the window back into the cemetery. Smiling, he jumped into the truck, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Kevin stared in the mirror as he finished buttoning his shirt. After hooking the last button, he let his arms fall to his sides and blinked at his reflection. "You can do this," he whispered to himself, practicing a smile. It still looked a bit foreign in the mirror. He shook his head and took a deep breath, grabbing his jacket off the door and bounded down the steps.

"You're on the inside, you've got access to information that I don't." He could hear voices coming from the kitchen and was surprised to find his dad deep in conversation with Veronica as he rounded the corner.

"Dad? Veronica?" Kevin asked, shoving his hands into his pockets as they both looked at him.

Tom looked at Veronica, who had grown quiet, and then up at his son. "Kev, we were just finishing up. Veronica just wanted to know a few things about the new job." He smiled as he rose from his chair. "If you can excuse us, Veronica, Kevin and I have something to attend to."

"Of course, Mr. Keller," Veronica said, looking down at her buzzing phone. "Oh, this is Archie. Looks like I'm needed elsewhere anyway." She frowned at Kevin as she headed for the door. He tried to give her his best remorseful look. She raised an eyebrow then turned back to his dad. "Think about it, okay?"

Tom nodded. "I will. Have a good night, Veronica." He waved as she left before turning to Kevin. "Are you ready?" His voice was soft.

Kevin straightened his shoulders, his chin naturally jutting out in the process and nodded. "I have to be, it's time. I can't hold onto this anymore, especially not since it might have stopped-," he faltered, his voice catching in his throat.

"Hey," Tom put a hand on Kevin's shoulder and squeezed. "Nothing is your fault. You needed some time." He smiled warmly. "But now you're ready and this is an important next step."

Kevin nodded and wiped his eyes. "Then let's get going."

* * *

FP stood as Tom and Kevin Keller walked into the police station. He shook Tom's hand and looked over at Kevin. "We really appreciate you being willing to give testimony against The Farm. It's vital information to the FBI, especially now with Edgar's recent activity. Are you ready?"

Kevin nodded and FP led the two of them down one of the back halls. "Now, I'm sure you're used to the process because of your old man here, but as a heads up, it won't just be me in the room with you. Agent Smith and Agent Kane from the FBI will be with me to listen and ask questions. Is that alright?"

"Yes," Kevin said, "I want this to get straight to the FBI. It should have months ago, but I was still worried about protecting the wrong people."

"That's alright, son, you're here now." FP looked over at Tom as they stopped outside one of the examination rooms. "Will you be staying with him, Tom?"

"Unfortunately not, FP. I actually have to head to work. But I know he'll be in good hands." Tom wrapped Kevin in a hug. "Proud of you." FP could hear him whisper to Kevin. They pulled away and Tom walked back toward the lobby of the station.

FP opened the door and gently ushered Kevin inside. Charles and Agent Kane were sitting at one end of the table in the room and looked up as they entered. FP could feel Kevin tense up a bit, but he placed a hand on his shoulder and looked at him reassuringly. "You ready?"

Kevin looked between the two agents and then up at FP, "Let's do this."

* * *

Jughead stood leaning against the back of a chair in the bunker, staring at the board in front of him. Most of the strings and cards had been ripped off, leaving a large chunk of the board blank. Edgar's name and all the pictures he had taken of The Farm remained, now joined by the letters from Betty's clue.

His eyes burrowed into the letters, willing them to rearrange themselves. He stared and stared until the letters began to blur. Jughead clenched his fingers into the chair and screamed, knocking the chair over.

He stood in the middle of the room panting, his hair covering his eyes, and then he sank down against the wall. There was a scraping above him and footsteps sounded on the ladder.

"Jug?" Archie's voice rang through the bunker, followed by a second pair of footsteps. The hazy beam from a flashlight shone into the main room and into Jughead's face. "Jughead!" Archie clicked it off and bent down next to him. "Are you okay?"

"Just fine, Archie," Jughead said cynically. "Just got in a little tussle with a chair, that's all." He propped himself up more gracefully against the wall. Archie glanced over at the toppled chair as Veronica stepped inside the room behind him. "How'd you know I was here?"

"I ran into your dad," Archie said, scooting himself against the wall on the other side of the opening. Veronica sat down on the bed.

Jughead placed his arm on his knee and smirked. "Ah, he sending you after me now to make sure I'm okay?"

"No, _I _wanted to make sure you were okay," Archie retorted, throwing Jughead a concerned look. "And he told me that he found a clue from Betty, that you were trying to figure out the rest of it."

Jughead looked between the two of them. They both looked upset, but not angry. Veronica was giving him a look as though she were waiting for him to tell her where it hurt. "Guess it's my turn to apologize," he said weakly, his chest tightening.

"I've been such a jerk to you guys. I mean, I exploded on you over and over and how did you respond? By throwing a freaking rally. And I just continued sulking and chasing my crazy theories."

"Everyone grieves differently," Archie shrugged, pulling a knee up to his chest.

Jughead shot him an exasperated look. "Come on, Archie, stop downplaying it. I was a total jerk to you."

Archie and Veronica glanced at each other then back at Jughead. "You're right. Total jerk," Veronica smiled. "And some of those theories were crazy. I mean, thinking you could case your own half-brother, who's in the _FBI?" _

Jughead snorted, "Hey, you just wait until your long-lost half-sibling walks into town and then we'll talk."

Veronica tilted her head in thought. "Touché." She looked back at Archie. "Archie and I do have one more thing to tell you, too."

Jughead raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Veronica and I," Archie swallowed, "we're back together."

Jughead blinked. "Yeah, I know."

"You do?" Veronica asked.

"Uh, yeah. You two enjoy touching. I wasn't _that _oblivious to everything else this whole time."

Veronica snickered. Archie pursed his lips. "And you're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad about that?" Jughead raised a confused eyebrow.

"Well, with Betty gone I thought-,"

"You thought I might spontaneously combust at the very sight of a happy couple?" Jughead jeeringly finished his sentence. "Come on, man, I'm not that fragile."

The three chuckled and then grew silent. Archie and Veronica stared around the room absently. Jughead looked back over at the board, the letters and photographs staring back at him.

"How did we get here, guys?" Jughead wondered aloud, his voice quiet and reflective. "How did we go from running around playing tag and hide-and-seek to running around chasing leads in murder and kidnapping cases?"

Archie laced his hands over his knee and pressed his head back against the wall. "It feels like it all goes back to Fourth of July," he said solemnly.

"Jason's death opened up Pandora's Box and left Riverdale a mess," Jughead muttered.

"And apparently we got chosen as the cleanup crew for all the ghosts and ghouls that came out of that mess," Veronica sighed.

The bunker was quiet for a moment and then there was what sounded like muffled wheezing, and then a few moments later a strangled snort. Veronica and Jughead both turned toward Archie. His cheeks were puffed out and his face was red.

"Sorry, Ronnie," Archie choked out, unable to suppress his laughter any longer, "I'm just trying to imagine you as a ghostbuster and I can't do it."

Veronica scoffed and hit Archie with a pillow. "What! I'd be great at it. And you know I could make even a gray jumpsuit work."

Jughead snickered. "Archie, she'd probably be better than you at it." He raised his arms in front of him and pretended to shoot a proton blaster. "You'd probably be the one to end up crossing the streams."

"What? No way!" Archie protested. Veronica and Jughead looked at each other and smirked.

"Okay, fine, let's put it to a vote; which one of us would make the best ghostbuster?" They looked around at each other.

"Betty," the three said in unison, laughing again. Jughead looked back over at the board, sticking his tongue in his cheek. He looked down and fiddled with the beanie in his hands.

"I should never have tried to hide what I knew about the case from you guys. I was being selfish," he apologized. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't have had to find out everything from my dad."

"Or from the all the new posters hanging around town," Veronica added, straightening back up on the bed. "I was on my way home from school the other day when I suddenly saw Edgar's creepy sketch staring back at me from across the street."

"Yeah, Jug," Archie leaned forward, staring up at Jughead's board. "What happened? What's this message your dad told me about?"

"Well, the morning after Halloween he got called to investigate something at Pickens Park and he found Betty's FBI badge there with some of the letters crossed out. Part of it spelled out Edgar, but we haven't been able to figure out the other letters yet."

"After Halloween? Jughead that was a week ago!" Veronica gasped.

"What was at Pickens Park?" Archie asked, a hint of distress in his voice.

"It was a big empty hole," Jughead shrugged. Archie looked panicked, but Jughead turned back to the board. "But even though we found it here, none of us think she's actually in Riverdale. Not with the manhunt for Edgar. So I've been hoping that the rest of the letters spell out a location. But in all honesty, she probably doesn't even know where she is."

Veronica nodded earnestly, biting her lip. She looked down at Archie, who still looked a bit shaken up. "Well, Jughead, you have us now. We just have to keep trying. Betty's smart, she would've made sure we could figure it out and find our true north."

Jughead nodded and stared back at the board. He let his gaze wander over all the pictures again. Police markers in a circle. The empty industrial fridge. Burnt and scattered candles. The graffiti compass. Scattered boxes-. Wait. Jughead's eyes drifted back to the compass. While it was sporting all four needles, only one had a letter by it. The one pointing up.

He looked at the letters, then back at the picture.

North.

True North.

"Veronica, that's it!" Jughead darted up, almost stumbling directly into the crime board. Veronica and Archie jumped up behind him. "Look! These are the letters that were left from her message." His heart was pounding against his chest now. "_r a o i t o n," _he began scribbling on the board, "I haven't been able to make sense of it. It's just been shots in the dark trying to spell out a word or phrase from this, but direction! It's a direction."

"Charles mentioned in an earlier debriefing that the FBI has cause to believe that The Farm may have headed north. And if Edgar needs to stay close to The Farm, he would have taken Betty north too. And there's one place up north I can think of that uses these letters." Jughead threw his marker down on the table and stared at the assembled word in front of him.

"No way," Archie breathed, his fists beginning to tremble.

"Ontario," Jughead repeated the word he had just written. "She's in Canada." His body began to shake but Archie laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, we have to tell your dad." Archie scrambled over to the ladder and fervently began climbing, Veronica right behind him. Jughead peeled his eyes away from the board, anger and excitement burning its way through him as he followed Veronica up the ladder.

"I have my truck here. Jug, we can come back for your motorcycle. Your dad said he was on his way to the station when I saw him, he's probably there now." Archie was talking fast and breathlessly, stumbling over some of his words.

"Okay, but you have to let me drive," Veronica chided, grabbing the keys from Archie. "You sound like someone who's had one too many energy drinks. And I've _seen _you on one too many energy drinks. I'm driving."

"It doesn't matter," Jughead stated, jogging after his friends on the narrow path away from the bunker. His mind was racing. Betty had been able to tell them where she is. She knew how far away she was. She was probably terrified. Why had Edgar brought her back to Riverdale?

He hopped over a small log. Night had fallen over Fox Forest and he was very thankful that Archie had brought his flashlight, otherwise, his thoughts wouldn't be the only thing he would be tripping over right now. "We just need to get there, and quick. I don't want to leave Betty out there one more night with that maniac."

A large branch cracked nearby and Veronica turned her head. "What was that?"

"We're in the middle of the forest," Jughead breathed, "Probably just some animal."

"Just some animal? Now, now, let's not resort to such barbaric name-calling so soon," a grating voice rang out from the darkness.

All three friends stopped and turned their heads this time. A dark figure was moving through the trees directly toward them.

"Well, well, if it isn't the three blind mice," Penelope taunted, sauntering into the glow of the flashlight. "Still running around in the dark, I see."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Duh duh duhhhhhh. 
> 
> I may be biased, and I feel like every new chapter I write becomes my new favorite, but this one might actually be my favorite. But there were also so many moments that hurt my heart to write. 
> 
> I’ll try really hard not to leave you guys dangling on this cliffhanger for too long. The next chapter is already partially written, but it’s going to be a doozy. 
> 
> I hope you guys are enjoying! As always, leave a comment if you feel so inclined! I love reading any that come through and am so encouraged by all your wonderful notes!


	13. Exodus Pt. I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys, I won’t ever make a promise like, “I’m going to try to get this one done earlier!” anymore. 
> 
> My work schedule was absolutely nuts for two weeks, then I had a (very fun) but also work trip to England for a week. And came back directly into Christmas time rush/workload. So I was only able to write little bits and pieces for the last three weeks but pushed really hard over the weekend and today to get in done. So fun fact, some of this chapter was written on a plane above the Atlantic ocean, in some airports, and also a bit in Liverpool for any readers from the UK out there!
> 
> Double fun fact, as I realized all the dates for the events happening in this story were actually passing, I found myself thinking “Oh, tonight this happens…” And then continuously thinking, “Oh, sorry Betty,” over and over, especially on Halloween. (Which I surprisingly got a few things right (sorry Jughead.)) And now the dates have fallen behind in the story since I’ve had no time. 
> 
> Also, now that we’re seven episodes in… I’m very glad I decided to write this fanfiction after all. That is all I will say about my opinion toward the show right now.
> 
> So, with all ranting and fun facts aside, because let’s be real, this is the chapter you’ve all been waiting for, let the story continue!

The forest grew eerily still. Jughead furrowed his brow and slowly turned around, his breath swirling in the chilly air in front of him. Penelope Blossom was standing a few feet away, adorned with a dark floral dress and a malicious smirk, a handbag perched in the crook of her arm.

"More déjà vu…" Veronica uttered to herself as she moved closer to the boys.

Archie stepped forward and raised his fists defensively. Jughead immediately whipped out the knife from his pocket.

"Already trying to spoil the fun?" Penelope tutted. "How typical of you children. Archibald, Jughead, there's no need for anything rash. Not unless you want someone to get hurt." She reached into her purse and pulled something out. Jughead looked at it, stiffening when he saw the flash of silver metal. He could tell Archie and Veronica saw it too, as Archie had dropped his fists and pushed himself closer to Veronica.

Penelope smiled and dropped it back inside her bag. She then paused and raised a finger. "One, two, three… oh dear," she frowned, "We seem to be missing one, don't we?"

Archie jerked forward but Jughead grabbed his jacket and pulled him back.

"Archie, no!" Jughead hissed. His own anger was flaring, but they had to act smartly. He stared at Penelope, studying her facial expression. She looked too… eager. He knew they needed to hear more.

"We do not have time for this," Veronica snapped. "Why the hell are you back?"

A slight movement caught the corner of Jughead's eye and he glanced at Veronica. She had pulled her phone behind her back and was holding down the call button.

"Oh, I've been around more than you've known. Lurking, waiting. It's been so much fun watching you three self-destruct." Penelope smiled darkly. "But you were starting to get too friendly again, so I thought it high time I step in."

"You tried to kill all of us. For sport," Jughead spat, still holding Archie back. His stomach twisted, but his mind was also prickling. Threads were starting to come together in his head.

Penelope smirked and shrugged her shoulders gleefully. "What can I say, I guess I just don't know how to let things go."

"So are you here to try to finish the job? Because that didn't work so well the first time." Veronica was sneering, but there was hesitation in her voice.

Penelope bobbed her head and frowned, "As much as I hate to admit my failures, you're correct, it didn't. But who doesn't like a second chance?"

Jughead squeezed his pocketknife a little tighter.

"I've learned a thing or two from my mistakes. And now I know that I don't have to kill you to see you die. You can still feel the pain I did another way."

Penelope reached back into her bag and Archie lurched forward once more. "I can grab the gun before she can use it!" he whispered back as Jughead charged too. They were _not _going to go down now. Not when they were this close.

Archie and Jughead only made it a few strides before Penelope lifted her head, but what was in her hand was not a gun. And then a voice filled the air, freezing Archie and Jughead in their tracks.

"_It opened the first wound, the original trauma. If I had to guess, Betty, this was your point of no return."_

Jughead felt the blood drain from his face. Archie tensed up next to him. Penelope was holding what looked like a tape recorder in her hand, her finger hovering over the play button.

"Ah, ah, ah boys, I wouldn't do that if I were you, or I won't let you listen to the rest," she tutted.

"Who is that?" Veronica asked hoarsely, coming up behind Jughead.

Her question didn't register, but he turned toward Penelope and asked his own, "What is that?"

"You all seemed so sad without your friend, so I thought I'd bring you a little present from dear Elizabeth, something for you to remember her by." She grinned and hit the play button.

"_Is it haunting, Betty? To have stepped through the veil…"_

The world seemed to disappear around him as every new word poured out from the scratchy tape recording. Jughead could hear the blood pounding in his ears.

"Jughead, who is that?" Archie repeated Veronica's question in a more pained voice.

"That's… that's Edgar." His voice sounded hollow and far away. Through his panic, Jughead was trying to take in what Edgar was saying, trying to make any sense to it, but even though it was all he could hear, none of the words were sticking. He wondered if this is what the piercing of a dog whistle felt like; hearing a noise made only for certain ears, but inaudible and undetectable to the rest.

And then a second voice echoed from the tape.

"_Edgar, stop…" _

The voice was quiet and desperate, and it was accompanied by ragged sobs, but it was unmistakably Betty's.

Jughead took a sharp intake of breath and he could hear the others do the same. The ground felt like it had dropped out from under him and he reached out to grab Archie's jacket just to make sure he was still there.

"_Everything started after this point. So much pain, so much death entered your life after this. All the places we've had to revisit, they all started here..."_

Veronica started shuffling on her feet, and Jughead managed to pry his eyes away from Penelope and the tape just long enough to see her squeeze her eyes shut. But his own eyes immediately snapped back to the slowly spinning tape inside the recorder. He thought he could hear Archie begin to whimper.

"_Which is why it has to end here."_

Lightning coursed through Jughead's heart. Everything in his body stopped working for a second and colorful dots started to dance in front of his eyes.

There was the shuffling of fabric and a wail on the tape, then nothing. Just soft static.

Even after weeks of being in the dark, Jughead only now realized how much silence could hurt. He could hear faint crying but he wasn't sure who it was coming from. Maybe it was him. Seconds passed, and then a minute, and then:

"_I'm just a kid, Edgar. Don't do this, I'm just a kid."_

He wanted to be relieved when Betty's voice came back over the tape, but he couldn't. It was the most broken Jughead had ever heard her, and something deep inside told him it might be the most broken he would ever hear her.

"Stop it!" Archie finally wailed. "Turn it off, he's torturing her!"

Jughead felt him rush forward and he tried to hold him back again, but his grip was too weak to hold onto his friend. But Archie staggered and Jughead looked over; Veronica was holding onto the other side of him.

Penelope stopped the tape recorder and slid it back inside her purse, a wicked smirk shadowing her face. "As I said, I don't need to kill you."

She began walking back into the darkness of the surrounding forest. "Ta ta, little mice, it's been a pleasure," Penelope trilled, backing away from the frightened teenagers.

Archie started forward but Jughead put his arm out, speaking softly, "No, let her go."

"What?" Archie balked, hitting Jughead's arm out of the way. "Why? Did-did you not just hear that?" His voice strained.

Jughead's eyes swam and he tried to swallow down his own emotion. "Yes, I was listening. And what I heard was that she knows where Betty is. If we let her go, she could lead us directly to her." He was trying to keep his voice steady, strong. "If we get to the station now, the police can identify her car and we can follow. Does that sound like a plan?" Archie stared at him for a second, then his shoulders relaxed and he pulled away.

"Yeah, yeah it does," he said quietly, turning away.

Veronica pulled her phone out in front of her with a trembling hand, clicking on the speakerphone. "Cheryl?" she called into the phone, "Did you hear all that?"

_"Unfortunately, yes," _Cheryl said from the other end of the line. _"That was… harrowing."_

Veronica looked at Archie and Jughead. "I thought she would want to know that her mother was here," she whispered.

"_My mother has tormented all of you long enough, and now she's working with that demon." _There was a growl on the other side of the call. _"I'm meeting you at the sheriff station."_

"We won't let your mom get away," Veronica called into the phone. "Not this time."

"Come on, let's get going." Jughead felt his daze start to fade and his eyes darkened as he broke into a run. He could hear the others jogging behind him, and soon Archie was sprinting ahead of him toward the truck.

If it hadn't been before, it was now overwhelmingly clear that this was a matter of life and death.

* * *

"Thank you so much, Kevin," FP said, escorting the teen out of the room. "Just wait in the lobby for me, okay? I'll be out in a few minutes."

Kevin nodded and walked down the hall, soon disappearing around the corner. FP turned around and looked at Charles and Agent Kane. "Well?"

'Well, all of that would've been helpful to have known months ago," Kane grumbled.

"Kane, come on. The kid was traumatized," Charles scoffed.

"The other two that testified with us months ago didn't seem so traumatized."

"People are ready at different rates."

"Oh, are you a counselor now, Charles?" Agent Kane countered.

"Guys!" FP cut in. "Knock it off. We got new information out of it. We need to move forward, and quickly."

Charles and Kane looked at each other. Kane adjusted his tie and grunted. "Of course. Charles, let's head back to base-,"

"Sheriff Jones to the lobby please!"Agent Kane was cut off as Kevin's call echoed into the room. "Sheriff Jones you're needed in the lobby!"

FP knit his brow and jogged out of the room. He was not ready for what met him around the corner; Kevin was standing nervously in front of a very breathless and distraught group consisting of Jughead, Archie, Veronica, and Cheryl. All of their faces were red and splotchy.

"What happened?" FP asked, looking carefully between all of the teens in front of him. "What's wrong?"

There was a cacophony of replies as everyone answered over top one another. FP's eyes bounced from one person to the next trying to keep up. He heard "Edgar" and "Betty", something about unscrambling the clue, and what sounded like Cheryl calling her mother a hag.

"Woah, Woah!" FP said, raising his hands, "One at a time."

"We just had a run-in with Penelope Blossom," Jughead started, stepping toward his dad.

FP's eyes grew wide. "What?" He waved a passing officer over. "Where is she? Why didn't you call me?"

"We let her go on purpose, we figured you could track her. She's probably still in Riverdale," Veronica answered.

FP whispered something to the officer, who subsequently scurried off. He turned back to the group, "We're on it. What did she want? Did she hurt you?"

"Not physically." Jughead looked down at the ground.

"But she had a tape, Mr. Jones," Archie stammered.

"And that witch is working with Edgar," Cheryl snarled.

FP looked back and forth between all of the teens. They were all visibly shaken up by whatever had happened. "What tape?" he said gently, looking at Jughead. "Son, tell me what happened."

"Penelope said that she had been watching us for a while. That she wanted to see us self-destruct." Jughead coughed and cleared his throat. "We figured she just wanted to finish what she started last spring at Thornhill, but-,"

"-but she said she didn't want to kill us," Archie interjected, the frenzy returning to his eyes. "That there were other ways to die, and she played us a tape."

Archie and Jughead both returned to looking at the ground. FP turned his confused look to Veronica. Her face was red but she seemed able to talk. "It-," she choked out, meeting FP's eyes, "uh, it was a recording of Edgar torturing Betty."

"Oh no," Kevin gasped, gripping his hair. He turned toward the wall and began pacing back and forth. "I was too late." Cheryl walked over to him.

FP felt his stomach twist and he instinctively placed an arm around Jughead, who looked up with tears in his eyes. "She's a part of this, Dad. She's a part of what happened to Betty. And… and it's bad."

FP's eyes drifted over everyone standing in the lobby. Jughead was staring blankly ahead, Veronica was holding her arms, Cheryl was trying to consol a panicking Kevin, and Archie looked ready to punch a hole in the wall. It looked exactly like all the reactions the teens had when they had found Chic and the mocking note in the cabin. Then FP's eyes widened.

"That's it!" he shouted, pulling away from Jughead. Everyone stared at him. Jughead wiped his eyes and raised an eyebrow.

"What's going on out here?" Charles and Agent Kane turned the corner. Charles looked at FP in curiosity.

"There was another incident tonight. But it seems we actually may have gotten the answers we've needed. Everyone in my office, now."

"Woah, woah, we don't need a bunch of teenagers in the middle of this." Agent Kane tried to step in the way of Archie and Jughead as they headed into FP's office.

"Nice to see you again, Agent K," Jughead ragged, stepping around him.

FP huffed. "These teenagers have been in the middle of this from the beginning. They were witnesses tonight and our missing person is their best friend. They are as much – if not more - involved in this as you are, Quinton," he retorted, holding the door open as Jughead, Veronica, and Archie marched smugly into his office.

Jughead tried to hold in a snort.

"What?" Agent Kane shot him a dark look as he closed the door to FP's office, shutting the group inside.

"Nothing, nothing at all," Jughead looked away. "Quinton."

Agent Kane rolled his eyes as Charles pushed his way toward FP. "You said there's more information?"

"Right." FP cleared his throat and dug through a stack of files on his desk. "Well, earlier today I went back to the place we were sent the day Betty was first abducted."

"The cabin across the river?" Jughead guessed, perking up. FP could see the wheels already turning in his son's head.

"Yes. That part just never quite added up to me. I mean, why would Edgar wait around a whole day to shoot Chic when it was set up as a distraction in the first place? That didn't make any sense, and the scene felt oddly familiar."

"Of course!" Jughead exclaimed. "Penelope was working with him already. She shot Chic."

FP nodded, placing a finger on his nose then pointing it at Jughead. "And it looked like a mimic of Jason's death. It was the same type of bullet and gun that Clifford used."

"And she had that gun with her tonight," Archie added, staring at the photo FP was currently pulling out of the stack of files and tacking to the whiteboard. He was pulling up a series of old images from Jason's case.

"So is that why Chic was involved? Because of Penelope?" Veronica asked.

"What are we even talking about?" Kevin asked, perplexed. Cheryl slapped his shoulder and then whispered to him, presumably catching him up on everything that had happened.

"My guess is that was a happy accident on their part," Jughead continued. "Chic was afraid of something, I could see it. This was why. His instinct after escaping prison would have been to find the only person who might still take him in."

"My mother," Cheryl spat.

Jughead nodded, "Yes, and by then she was already working with Edgar. He got roped into their plan, probably threatened to be the scapegoat." FP snorted and crossed his arms. Jughead looked up, a sympathetic look washing over his eyes, and continued, "So he _had _hoped to get caught. Putting him back in jail would've kept him safe."

"But I didn't take him here, I took him to the bunker," FP interjected, pressing his hand against the door, closing the small crack that had been left open. "So he tried to flee to save himself, but Penelope must have gotten to him."

"That's how the riddles were so personal. Penelope would have known. I mean, she even called us the three blind mice tonight. She wrote those riddles."

"Or Mrs. Cooper might have told Edgar about some of that stuff," Kevin spoke up.

Jughead flipped his head toward Kevin, placing his hands on his hips. "And they used that against us and it worked. And they were almost able to completely cover up their tracks. Almost."

"Almost." FP nodded.

"So my father letting Chic out on the same night Edgar decides to kidnap Betty was, what? Just a coincidence?" Veronica crossed her arms.

"Seems like it," Jughead said.

"Thanks Dad," she muttered under her breath.

"Did Edgar and Penelope Blossom know each other beforehand?" Charles looked between FP and Jughead.

"My mother met with him on a few occasions, but they definitely weren't friends," Cheryl snorted.

"But why?" Archie asked, running a hand through his hair. "Why team up?"

FP didn't have an answer to that. He looked to Jughead, who was squinting and rubbing his face.

"Well, we sent Penelope on the run after what happened last spring, and after tonight, she obviously has been seeking revenge this whole time. She even said it herself – she can't let things go." He reached up and rubbed his beanie, furrowing his brow. "She was probably looking for resources after getting run out of town, and she happened to find an ally with a similar intention."

"Enemy of my enemy," Veronica growled.

Jughead nodded uneasily. "Betty managed to almost completely expose and dismantle his entire front. That sounds like a motive for revenge."

"We can ask Betty the specifics of that 'why' after we find her," Archie barked, trying to pace amongst the too-many people stuffed in the too-small office.

A phone went off and Charles tucked himself into a corner, holding a hand over his ear. "Yeah?"

"And we're going to find her. Soon." FP turned toward the map next to the whiteboard.

"We know where she is," FP and Jughead said simultaneously, causing them to look at each other.

"You have a location?" FP asked. "We know The Farm's in Canada from Kevin. He overheard them talking about it the night they left Riverdale."

Jughead shot an angry look over to Kevin. "You knew this whole time?"

Kevin put his hands up. "I know, I'm sorry. I was protecting the wrong people, but I'm not anymore. That's why I'm here. I was giving my testimony."

"Yes, and he's trying to help, so none of that." FP shot Jughead a look. He backed off.

"Jughead figured out the rest of Betty's anagram, Mr. Jones. It said Ontario," Veronica pointed to the map behind FP.

FP put a hand on Jughead's shoulder. He could feel his son's heartbeat hammering through his body. "Really? Nice work."

Out of the corner of his eye, FP saw Agent Kane pull out his wallet and hand something to Charles.

"But that's still a huge area!" Archie cried. "How will we know where to look?"

"We'll know because our asset just told us," Charles came back into the fold, his eyes wide. "It's Alice." Now FP's heart began to hammer.

Charles was holding a hand over the phone, "She just gave us a specific town and address." He turned to Agent Kane. "We need to mobilize a group _now_. She says it sounds like Edgar's planning to move soon."

All of the teens' eyes widened and FP could feel the tension in the room grow.

"What?" Charles asked, putting the phone back up to his ear. His eyes fell and he turned back toward the wall. "No, she's not," he said in a smaller voice. "Alice, she's been missing for weeks."

There was an awkward silence as everyone tried not to look at Charles. Then FP's door burst open and the officer from earlier came barging in.

"Sheriff Jones, we got a hit from one of the traffic cameras on Penelope Blossom. She's heading north out of Riverdale."

FP and Agent Kane pushed between Archie and Jughead and headed into the lobby.

"We're going to set up a convoy immediately to cross the border. We can get clearance for a small unit from your station to assist," Agent Kane ordered.

"We're coming, too," Jughead demanded as he pushed his way back into the lobby. All of the teens followed behind him with the same gumptious look on their faces.

"Yeah, this is personal for all of us," Cheryl crooned. Kevin nodded vehemently behind her.

"No, absolutely not." Agent Kane whirled around to face them. "We just barely gave you on-site access to help with the local investigation," he said, looking at Jughead. "We cannot, and will not, be an accomplice to bringing a group of minors not only across international borders but also into a potentially dangerous raid. No arguments."

Jughead's eyes seethed. "But-,"

"No buts, Jughead!" FP snapped. "You have helped enough. Please, let us do our job now. I promise I'll call you. I promise we'll bring Betty home."

"Dad!" Jughead started, but FP shot him another look and he quieted down. Charles jogged into the lobby.

"We need to go. Alice is pretty riled up right now; it honestly sounded like she was about to go in guns blazing herself. If we head to base now, we can be out and moving in half an hour. FP, follow us there and we'll get you up to speed on the protocol."

Agent Kane nodded and he and Charles ran out of the station. FP watched as they disappeared around the corner outside and then turned toward Jughead and the others.

"Kane is right about the danger. I can't put you guys into the path of what could possibly become a firefight."

"Dad, come on-," Jughead started, throwing his hands up. The whole group behind him began to protest.

FP raised a hand and glanced around before looking Jughead directly in the eye. "But hypothetically, if you all had your passports, and you all drove far enough behind, then there's no reason that you couldn't cross the border on a spontaneous fall break trip to Canada." He winked at Jughead as he passed.

Jughead raised an eyebrow and nodded. This seemed to sedate the other teens as well, as they all looked around at each other eagerly.

"Right, right, of course," Veronica said. Archie was pulling his keys out of his pocket and she grabbed them. "And I'm still driving."

* * *

"Here's what's going to happen. Down that hall is the entrance to the electrical room. I'll get inside and cut the power."

Hiram was talking quietly to a group of a dozen inmates or so. They were all hunched together over a table in the cafeteria. "That takes the electricity out of the fences in the courtyard. There's an opening somewhere in the eastern corner."

"And you know this how?" Donnie asked from across the table.

"I overheard one of the guards talking about a need to fix it up. But they haven't gotten to it yet. That's to our advantage." There was, in fact, no loose fencing. This just gave all the inmates a further distraction when Hiram decided to defect. He would set them up to be literally cornered.

"And the new guards are holding their last training session in the courtyard then, too? We'll have a nice opportunity to rush 'em." One of the men blurted slightly too loud.

Hiram shushed him and leaned back, warily looking around at the few guards standing by the doors. They seemed not to have noticed. "Be careful of what you say, Jack, and how you say it," he berated. "Now, we've got to act fast or they'll catch on, and we do not need Captain Patton to find us. He'll be on his break in about 15 minutes, so let's go over everything one last time."

He locked eye contact with everyone in the circle. "First, I'll complain of a stomachache and be taken to the infirmary. On the way there, I'll steal one of the guard's passes and find the electrical room."

"After the lights go out, we'll blockade the entrance to the courtyard so the captain can't get in," one of the guys said.

"And so none of the fresh meat can get out." Donnie gave a rather cruel smile. Hiram made a mental note to make sure he was properly contained after all this.

"And?" Hiram asked, wanting to make sure they fully understood what to do.

"The fight will distract the guards from noticing the first half of us escaping. And once they're all down for the count, the rest of us will make a run for it."

"Good, Vic." Hiram nodded.

"But doesn't that leave you trapped inside?" Jack asked, turning to Hiram.

"If any of you gentlemen are familiar with the game of chess, then you'll understand that in order to win, certain pieces need to be sacrificed along the way. I intend to be one of those pieces for you men to win." Hiram smiled. That was half true.

Someone slapped him on the back. "Good man, Hiram. And here we all thought you were a snake just like the rest of us." There was a wave of laughter and hissing amongst the group.

"Don't judge a book by its many front-page covers." Hiram rose from his seat. "Now if you excuse me, I think it's time to get this started, shall we?" He turned away from the group of inmates at the table and smiled to himself.

This would be even easier than he imagined.

* * *

Jughead sat in the backseat of Archie's truck, staring at the yellow lines on the road speeding past under the headlights. The group had swung by Elm Street to pick up Jughead and Archie's passports (turns out Veronica always has hers on hand), and then Jughead had to talk down Jellybean from coming with them. They had compromised when Jughead had agreed to take her slingshot so they could, in her words, "take out a third sleazeball" for her.

Cheryl had traded her car for Kevin's truck and they were tagging behind as well. They had been very adamant about coming along, seeing as they both personally wanted to help bring Edgar down. Jughead had been reluctant at first to let them come (Cheryl had to remind him that it wasn't his choice,) and he had acquiesced after Kevin sincerely told them the rest of his story.

And then there had been quite a commotion trying to dissuade Cheryl from bringing her bow and arrows along. In her words, she wanted to "show her mother what it felt like to be the hunted." Veronica had convinced her that having an armed FBI team come after her was enough to show that, and they had left the weapon behind.

Then they had waited near the bridge heading north out of town until all of the FBI's vehicles and FP's cruiser drove past. When it was clear, they had slipped behind, making sure to stay just out of view.

FP had texted Jughead the address Alice had given them. Apparently, The Farm was holed up in a small town called Cornwall that was directly over the border to Ontario, and the plan was to discreetly surround the building to both search for Betty and detain Edgar. The prospect of witnessing an FBI search & rescue/raid combination would have been extremely exciting to Jughead if the stakes weren't so personal, and he was growing anxious at the thought of what they were heading into. He was already restless and they still had about two hours to go until they even got there.

And it seemed that it was going to be a quiet ride. Veronica had ended up driving and that was probably for the best. She had suggested that Archie and Jughead try to get some sleep on the way there, but Jughead was feeling anything but tired. His mind was moving faster than the truck on the freeway and he was almost shaking knowing how close they were. Archie, on the other hand, had managed to calm down from his frenzied state at the police station and was now curled up in the passenger seat.

Jughead looked out the window and watched as cars gently rolled by. They were in a fairly dense wooded area at the moment, but Jughead could see the glittering lights of a distant city on the horizon below the hill they were driving down. A bay stretched out to the left and the reflection from the lights spread like a soft golden blanket over the water.

It was quite peaceful, all things considered.

But his heart was still heavy. Betty had probably never seen what he was seeing right now. They were surrounded by beautiful views as they headed toward the Canadian wilderness, visible even at night, and Betty had probably been shrouded from it all. She had been robbed of so much.

"Can you stop that?" Veronica's question jolted him away from his thought. "You're shaking my seat."

Jughead looked down. His leg was bouncing and his knee was going directly into the back of Veronica's seat. "Sorry," he mumbled as he slid down the bench seat. He put his hand on his knee and resumed staring out the front window.

They were silent for a few more minutes but Jughead could feel the tension in the car. He glanced up and saw Veronica making eye contact with him through the rearview mirror.

"What's on your mind, Lodge?" Jughead asked dryly, continuing to stare out of the window.

"Now that we have some space, I wanted to see if-," she paused and Jughead could hear her choosing her words. "I wanted to see if you needed to process what we heard."

"Do _you _need to process it?"

"Don't deflect the question," Veronica fired back. The truck began drifting to the right, but Veronica relaxed her shoulders and centered back in the lane. "Sorry."

Jughead slumped back against his seat and folded his hands in his lap. He stared down at the floor and stayed silent for a few minutes, the only noise being the faint rumble and shake of the truck.

"When this all began, we were so adamant about not giving up, and then we just fell back into normal rhythms," He sighed, now staring up at the ceiling of the truck. "But nothing was normal. And then when we hit all of the dead ends in the investigation, it's like the urgency was slipping away little by little instead of heightening, and all we could do were things that felt trivial to keep our hopes up. And because life wouldn't let us stop and properly grieve, our emotions came out in other nasty ways."

He scrunched up his face and tried to relax his quivering lip as he continued. "While we've been fighting about petty issues, Betty's been fighting for her life. Because we were still going about our normal lives, I think we truly forgot the gravity of that until…" Jughead swallowed, and when he spoke again, his voice was low and tense, "until Edgar said it had to end. And that silence… I thought we were listening to her losing the fight."

His leg began to bounce again and he was fighting tears. "But then she spoke and she was okay, but… she wasn't. The pain in her voice…"

There was a sudden loud sob from the front seat and the truck suddenly swerved again. "Woah, hey!" Jughead lurched slightly to the side and grabbed the back of the passenger seat, his other hand going to Veronica's shoulder. There was a honk from behind them. Kevin had noticed, too.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Veronica hiccupped in between sniffling as she once again steered the truck back into the lane. "I've been trying so hard not to picture what's been going on this whole time. I couldn't bring myself to do it. But hearing… actually hearing… shattered all of the blinders I had put up in my mind."

Jughead could feel his throat tightening now and his leg bounced harder.

Veronica wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. "All anyone told us was to act like everything was normal, to just keep going about our lives and to school as if nothing happened. It felt so wrong."

Jughead snorted. "It's such terrible advice. Everything has changed, whether we consciously acknowledge it or not." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "Time is a cruel master – it doesn't let you stop, it just keeps pulling you along with the current, unbothered by whether you're moving forward by floating or drowning."

"And you start to notice just how much someone affected – touched – your life once they're missing from it." Veronica sniffed and leaned back in her seat. Jughead's knee was pounding into the back of it again, but if it was bothering her she didn't say anything. They fell back into silence once more.

A light snore from the passenger seat broke through the quiet. Jughead looked down at Archie. "How can he be sleeping right now?"

"I think this is his way of processing," Veronica replied as she glanced over at her boyfriend. A wave of soft, yellow light from the passing headlights rolled over the car. Jughead caught a glimpse of Veronica in the rearview mirror; she had a very somber expression plastered on her face.

"He's been running himself ragged at the community center and football practices, to exhaust himself I'm pretty sure. Mad Dog has called me a few times to check if made it home okay." She paused. "Even with all that, he's been having trouble sleeping, at least at normal times."

Jughead nodded, his mind flashing back to when he had walked into Archie's house only to find him dead asleep at noon. Archie was usually pretty active in the mornings with his workout schedule and to walk Vegas.

"I've woken up in the middle of the night a few times to find him staring vacantly out his window and crying," Veronica continued, her voice again becoming uneven. "I know it's sometimes about his dad, but not every time."

Veronica paused as Archie turned over in his seat. Jughead looked down, wondering how much else he hadn't noticed. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He'd been so focused on himself, so caught up in his own grief, that he had let himself believe that he was the only one experiencing pain. Archie's soft snoring resumed, filling the truck.

"So, the energy drinks...," Jughead related.

"The energy drinks," Veronica nodded, her voice soft.

Jughead looked back up into the mirror, catching Veronica's eyes a third time, a quiet understanding passing between them.

There was a reason a literal arsenal of people were barreling toward a potential danger zone right now. There was a reason all of them needed to make sure that what they had heard earlier that night wasn't actually the end.

Jughead stared ahead through the dark toward the approaching city lights. They sparkled and shimmered like a golden oasis in a black desert. Somehow, someway, Jughead hoped that this glimmer of hope he was seeing, this light shining before him, would find its way to Betty. To let her know that her family was coming. To let her know that she wouldn't have to be alone in the dark much longer.

* * *

A sharp ticking echoed through the empty halls of the building. Fluorescent lights hummed lazily against the black night in the windows. It was late and most everyone was now asleep. Edgar leaned up against the open doorway to his office and stared at the clock on his desk. He then let his gaze wander down the empty hall, drinking in the still air. He smiled.

He had won.

The trip back to Cornwall the previous evening had been pleasing; Betty had cried for a majority of it, but by the last hour she had grown silent. And when he had left her back in the cabin, her eyes had been completely empty. And something told him they would stay that way for a while.

Edgar turned and strolled into his office, running a hand along his desk. He would announce in the morning to everyone that they were moving and should start packing. Then they would be free and clear within the next few days.

What a sweet feeling.

He heard footsteps approaching and Penelope rounded the corner. Edgar pressed his hands together and watched as she dropped her bag on his desk.

"That smile on your face tells me we both had good nights," she leered.

Edgar sucked in a deep breath. "Relishing the moment. It's good to stop and smell the roses every now and then." Edgar sauntered over toward his bookshelf. He turned over his shoulder, "I'm preparing to move The Farm within the next few days, Penelope. You should prepare to move on as well."

"Don't worry, I'm almost fully ready to part ways. I just came back tonight to gather the rest of my things and I'll be gone by morning."

Edgar smiled again. "Excellent. I'd like to thank you for all the information you were able to provide me, it was quite worthwhile."

"And thank you for all the fun, Edgar. I never thought I would be able to get past Jason's death, but you helped me see there were ways to find closure. And now all those teens have finally been put in their place, too." Penelope said, tossed something to Edgar. "All of their faces may have been worth all the pain."

Edgar frowned and stared at Penelope for a second, then down at what he had caught. He stiffened. The clock on the desk ticked.

"How did you get this?" he asked in a low, tense voice as he waved the tape recorder in his hand. "This is from my personal records. This is private!"

Penelope scoffed, "Oh, calm down, Edgar. You have your tricks, I have mine. I knew what I was doing."

Edgar wrapped the tape tightly in his fist and stepped indignantly toward Penelope. "No, I don't think you do. You approached those kids, didn't you? And I assume they're all still alive, which means they probably went to the authorities, who could be on their way here right now." His eyes had darkened and he was practically snarling by the last word.

Penelope grimaced and took a step backward. Edgar kept inching forward.

"There's no need to be rash," Penelope stammered, reaching for her bag, "We've both slipped through the fingers of the authorities before. We'll do it again."

No.

Edgar could feel himself trembling. It was not going to end like this. His plan would not be ruined in the eleventh hour by someone else's arrogant incompetence.

Edgar lunged.

"You're right." He shoved Penelope against his desk, pinning down one of her arms. The other hit the clock and sent it crashing to the ground. "Except only one of us will this time." He reached down into Penelope's bag and pulled out her gun. "Someone has to take the fall."

Penelope sneered. "You wouldn't! We had a deal!" She shoved him off and tried to make for the door but Edgar bolted and blocked her path.

"No hard feelings, Penelope. I know you'd do the same for me." He flashed his teeth and slipped through the open door, slamming it behind him while ignoring Penelope's cries of protest. "If someone is on your tail," he called through the door, "I'll just make their job a little easier."

He quickly locked the door and turned around. Alice and Evelyn were coming down the hall staring nervously at him. He shoved the keys in his pocket and marched down the hall to meet them.

"We heard something crash, is everything alright?" Alice was looking past Edgar's shoulder toward his office.

Edgar ignored her. "Evelyn, Alice, start gathering people now. We have to move."

"What about you?" Alice asked as she anxiously laced her fingers together. She was eyeing the gun in his hand.

Edgar glanced at Alice, then made eye contact with Evelyn. "I have one more thing I need to take care of." He tucked the revolver into his belt behind his back. Evelyn nodded and darted off. Edgar pressed past Alice, whose eyes had grown indistinct, before slipping around the corner, his festering anger acting as his only guide.

* * *

The first sign that something was wrong was when the lights went out. The second was when a wave of angry inmates burst through the doors to the courtyard.

Tom instinctively lowered his hand to his side holster but quickly drew back. They were enclosed in too tight of a space to safely use rubber bullets.

A few prisoners grabbed the closest picnic tables and dragged them over to the doors leading back into the building. Others started circling the small group of guards that were standing startled in the courtyard.

Tom watched a handful of guards leap nervously to their feet, attempting to back away. Four men in jumpsuits quickly flanked them. Tom slowly shuffled closer to the youngest looking security officers, then put his hands up, looking around at the group of riled inmates.

"Stand down, everyone! You just blocked off the way to the infirmary, no one needs to get hurt tonight. I'm sure we can come to some sort of understanding about whatever it is you're upset about."

"That's where you're wrong, buddy." Donnie sauntered over to Tom with a triumphant grin on his face, Jack and Vic flanking him, "We're taking back our freedom. It's time to put all you corrupted control freaks in _your _place." He whistled and Jack lunged at Tom.

Tom grounded his feet and reached out a fist, clotheslining the guy in the gut and sending him instantly sprawling to the ground. Donnie and Vic went toward a frightened younger guard next to Tom.

"Hey! Watch out!" Tom stepped in front and took a punch to the jaw. He wrapped his arms around Donnie and shoved backward, watching as the grizzled inmate disappeared into the fray that was happening all over the courtyard.

Tom looked back at the other guard and rubbed his jaw. "You okay?" The guard nodded. "Stay low if you can. They're probably going to fight dirty, so don't be afraid to do the same in this case. The goal is to keep things under control and keep people from getting seriously hurt. I'll watch your back."

Tom scanned the courtyard. A few guards were attempting to dismantle the blockade, but inmates were coming at them from all sides. He whipped his head toward the other end of the area and raised an eyebrow. Three men were in the far east corner pulling at the fence and looking agitated.

He glanced back over the massive fight, taking in every face he could. He saw Donnie standing on top of one of the picnic tables with a stolen nightstick. Jack was pulling at the fence in the corner now, and a guard had tackled Vic to the ground. Other inmates and guards were running around and fighting frantically in the crowded courtyard. Hiram was nowhere to be seen among the rioting prisoners.

Ah. So that was his game.

He heard a yell and turned to see a large, tattooed man barreling toward him. "No time to think, Veronica," Tom muttered under his breath, "guess I'm in." He growled and swung his fist.

* * *

A gust of wind whistled, rattling through the walls of the lonely cabin. All of the lights were turned on, their yellow hue casting the brown walls in a sickly glow. Dead wood lay in the cold fireplace. The blanket was strewn in a heap across the floor, next to it a pair of discarded shoes.

Betty was sitting with her back up against the front door, her legs sprawled out in front of her. Dried streaks ran down her face and her neck was red and blotchy. Her eyes stared blankly over the room.

Her fault.

Those words kept tumbling around in her head.

The whole time she thought she was the good one, the one trying to fight the cycle of hurt that had befallen the town, but instead, she was the one that had started it.

She wasn't good. She wasn't brave.

She was the charlatan.

She had almost gotten all her friends killed on multiple occasions. She had driven her mother away, she had awakened the monster in her father. She had basically created the Gargoyle King by making the terrible decision to deliver Chic to her father. And all because she had felt like she had needed to do something to get over her insecurities sophomore year. Because she felt like she could fix the town, solve its problems. Because she thought she needed to prove herself.

Another gust of wind whistled outside. Betty whimpered and pulled her legs to her chest as a cold draft hit her back. She felt weak, as though someone had punched a hole in her, letting all of the energy drain out.

How could she have messed so many things up at such a young age? How could she have hurt so many people? That's what she had tried so hard to avoid, to fight against. But maybe that really was just a part of her fate - to hurt others.

_No! _The cry inside her head was feeble. Betty rolled to her knees and looked down at the floor. Could she fight back? Was this even worth fighting, or was she just simply facing the truth?

The wood around her shook as the wind howled around the cabin. The lights flickered slightly before remaining on.

There were so many voices competing in her head. But there was also something like a whisper pushing against them, trying to force its way up and out. But she couldn't quite make out what it was saying.

It didn't matter. No matter how many voices she could hear, she was alone now.

_You deserve this, _Edgar's voice rang in her head, _they're better off without you. You can't cause them any more pain. _

Betty screwed up her face, feeling another wave of tears threatening to break loose.

She had caused all of them to suffer. They didn't need her. She didn't deserve them.

The mumbled whisper was pressing harder now. Her thoughts tried to scream louder in response. Betty put her hands to her head.

It was so hard to focus. Everything was overwhelming. Her breathing began to accelerate. "Stop it, Betty… stop thinking like that," she whispered pleadingly to herself. Her voice sounded far away and unfamiliar.

This couldn't be the truth, could it? Something felt wrong. Edgar wasn't someone that could be trusted. This is what he wanted. But… he wanted to show her who she truly was… was this…?

Betty opened her mouth but couldn't seem to pull in any air. She shook her head. No, that was wrong. But was it?

She screamed, squeezing her eyes shut. Her head was a mess. Everything was a mess. But what he said made sense…

_Whoosh._

The whisper broke loose, roaring to the front of her mind as fiercely as if the wind from outside had suddenly ripped right through the front door. Betty gasped and slammed a hand into the floor. A memory suddenly flashed in front of her, a memory that had been clawing its way through her distressing thoughts the whole time, desperately trying to reach her, to remind her:

"**_You are brave, Betty. Most of my patients haven't been in situations even remotely close to yours'. But here you are, choosing to fight." Dr. Glass looked sympathetically at her._**

** _Betty could feel hot tears start to stream down her face. "It's all my fault," she sobbed, "it's all my fault. I caused the Black Hood. I caused the pain that led my mom to The Farm." She struggled to suck in a breath between the sobs. "I'm not good."_ **

** _Betty pushed away from the chair she was sitting in and sank to her knees. Dr. Glass quickly got up from his desk and kneeled next to her, handing her a pack of tissues. _ **

"**_Betty, no. That's not true, you are good. You didn't cause your father's actions, and that was your mother's choice to protect your sister – not to get away from you. You are not their decisions. You have to recognize that and fight the lies." _**

** _Betty looked at Dr. Glass through her tears. He was giving her a soft smile, resting one of his arms on a knee and holding out a tissue. She took it. _ **

"**_I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she hiccupped as she wiped her face. "I've just – I've just done a lot of bad things. And people keep getting hurt."_**

"**_We all do some pretty bad things, it's human nature. It's how we respond afterward that matters. What we decide to do after. Hey, breath, Betty. Come on."_**

** _She realized she was almost hyperventilating. She shifted against the chair and tried to steady herself._ **

"**_Here, let's try something. Whenever you feel everything start to press in, whenever you feel like you can't breathe, close your eyes and count to ten," Dr. Glass said soothingly. "As you count, think about other memories – good memories that mean a lot to you. That give you hope. Let those block out the bad and remind yourself that you have people that love you. Remind yourself who you are."_**

** _Dr. Glass shifted around toward Betty. "Ready? Count with me:"_ **

"One."

Betty placed both hands on the floor and steadied herself on her knees. She felt the coarseness of the wood under her palms, running her fingers down the knots on the board. The howl of the wind started to fade.

As she traced her hands over the wood, centering herself on something physical, she reached inside her head, past all of the voices yelling at her, past all of the lingering eyes and haunting scenes, and went back, back to one that felt welcoming.

"**_So, when my mom said we were moving to Riverdale, I made a pact with myself. To use this as an opportunity to become, maybe - hopefully - a better version of myself." _**

** _Veronica smiled as she and Betty walked down the track toward the football field. _ **

"**_That's a lot of pressure," Betty said, looking over. She found Veronica staring at her, as though waiting for her to share something in return. Betty bit her lip but found herself begin to explain about Polly and Jason. About her mom's pressure on her. This was the first time she had told anyone about this, and she was surprised it was spilling out all so easily to the new girl. But Veronica's vulnerability had put her at ease and she found her own anxiety ebbing away. _**

** _As she finished, she felt light, empty. What a relief to get something like that off her chest. She glanced over at Veronica for a response, but she wasn't looking at Betty, instead, she had her eyes on the football field. Of course. The new girl wouldn't actually be listening to her._ **

"**_Archie!" _**

** _Veronica's call sent a fresh wave of anxiety coursing through Betty. Her ponytail swung as she whipped her head back and forth between Veronica and the approaching redhead. _ **

"**_You're so doing this."_**

"**_What?" Betty's heart pounded as her eyes widened. Doing what? What was happening? Was Veronica trying to embarrass her?_**

** _But Veronica didn't look snide as she stopped and grabbed Betty's arm. She was smiling and it looked sincere. Her eyes looked excited and expectant, yet reassuring as she answered, "Slaying your dragons, Betty Cooper. One by one."_ **

Slaying your dragons.

Betty opened her eyes and shakily stood to her feet. Veronica had taught her about courage that day. They had known each other for all of one day and Veronica had already seen something in her that she never had; courage. She had learned how to give a face to fear that day, to name it so it would become easier to confront.

Betty looked around the cabin that had become all-too-familiar.

A dragon.

It was just another dragon that needed slain. Her breathing started to slow.

"Two."

"**_Wait, the Black Hood called you?"_**

"**_Yes," Betty hissed, "and it's risky for me to even be telling you this. But we're best friends and we live right next door to each other, so us walking to school together would look perfectly normal to anyone who might be watching. Including him."_**

** _Betty watched as Archie started looking around the path they were walking down. A pit was growing in her stomach. How could she do this? How could she put him in danger? She just so desperately needed to tell someone. _ **

"**_You think he's watching us?"_**

"**_I don't know, he could be," she hurriedly answered, "I know it sounds crazy, but it was him."_**

** _Archie let out an exasperated huff. "Betty, you have to tell the police! Even if it's not him."_ **

** _Oh no, had she freaked him out? Oh no, he was the only one that could help her, she couldn't drive him away. She needed her best friend. _ **

"**_It is him," she quickly said, " and he told me if I went to the police or if I told Jughead, he'd-," Betty felt a lump form in her throat. "God, he knows where Polly is, Arch. If he calls me again, I have to answer."_**

** _Archie grabbed her arm and twisted her around until she was facing him. She looked sheepishly down, expecting him to be angry. But his eyes were warm and full of determination when she finally looked up at him. "And I'm not letting you go through this alone."_ **

Betty walked to the middle of the room, picking up the blanket and tossing it onto the couch. She grabbed her shoes and slipped them on, lacing them tight. Her breathing was getting deeper and fuller.

She wasn't alone in this. She never was. Archie always made sure of it.

Some of the voices were backing off now that other memories were rushing forward. She was still shaky, and a few spots were hanging in her vision, but she could feel a new sense of vigor starting to pump through her, more than she'd felt in a while.

"Three."

"**_My parents are unbelievable, Jug. Polly is locked up in that house like a character out of Jane Eyre, and what are they doing? Changing each other's log-in accounts, throwing bricks through windows."_**

"**_Wish I had seen that." Jughead was leaning up against a desk in the Blue & Gold office, staring down at the ground. Betty turned to him with tears in her eyes._**

"**_Okay, I'm sorry." Jughead noticed her expression and crossed his arms. "It's not funny."_**

"**_It's like… you know how in a time of crisis people either come together or fall apart?"_**

** _Jughead nodded, but he was still staring at the ground._ **

** _Betty sucked in a breath and her voice came out in a strained whisper. "It feels like we're falling apart. And the way things are going, pretty soon the Coopers – we're not going to exist anymore. And there's nothing I can do to stop that." Betty could feel herself releasing all of the frustration and pain she had been holding in. Everything was coming out in a fast sob._ **

"**_Betty, don't do that." Jughead had risen from where he had been leaning and was now talking in a serious tone. "Don't give up."_**

** _He walked over and stood in front of her, staring directly in the eyes. "Your family is definitely splintering right now, but it won't fall apart because of you."_ **

** _She closed her eyes, tears still running down her cheeks. She felt Jughead's hand on top of hers. It was warm. _ **

"**_Because of you. You're holding them together. You're so much stronger than all of the white noise. You're stronger than your mother, you're stronger than your father. You're holding this family together."_**

** _Betty opened her eyes and whimpered. Jughead was speaking so strongly, so confidently. _ **

"**_So don't-," Jughead's chin trembled and he grabbed Betty's shoulder, pulling her close. "Don't let go."_**

"I won't."

Betty wiped away the tears that had begun to run down her cheeks and walked into the bedroom. She rummaged in the dresser, pulling out the torn up pillowcase, and ripped a small strip of fabric off, holding it out in front of her.

There was something to fight for. There was a lot to fight for. The voices wouldn't win. The white noise wouldn't win. She was stronger than it. She just needed to be reminded of that from time to time.

She slid the strip of fabric under her hair, bunching it up as best she could and tied tight, pulling her unkempt hair into as best a ponytail as she could. She tightened it, continuing to count in her head, and marched back into the front room.

As she hit ten, she stomped her heel onto the loose board, flipping it up. Betty stooped down and grabbed a piece of the broken plate as well as the V-shaped wire out of the cubby. She straightened up and stared at the door, a new sense of resolve flowing from her eyes.

He came close, but Edgar's lies weren't going to win this game. This wasn't her home. There was a bit more wilderness left to fight through to get to her real one, but she was getting out. She had hope.

"I won't let go, Jug."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See that button down there? Press it! Keep going! There's more!
> 
> (Or take a mental breather and leave a comment!)


	14. Exodus Pt. II

The fleet of FBI vehicles slowed to a crawl and turned down a rocky road, shutting off their lights and disappearing underneath a sea of trees. Veronica flipped the truck's lights off and turned onto the path as well. All three passengers in the truck leaned forward, trying to keep the cars within their view.

They had only crossed the border about twenty minutes ago and were not expecting to go dark so quickly. Border patrol had been smoother than they had expected – the line of police and federal vehicles had sped through swiftly, and when they pulled the truck up, Jughead had panicked and instead of showing his passport, he flashed his FBI badge. The poor border agent had looked so flustered that he just waved them through.

And now they were on the outskirts of Cornwall, pulling into an open field behind a large school building.

Veronica stopped the truck a good distance away from where the FBI convoy was heading. Kevin pulled up beside them.

"Do you think she's inside?" Archie nervously asked the group, the wind whipping around his jacket as he jumped down from the truck.

Jughead peered across the field to the building. He could see scattered lights on through the windows. "Hopefully," he said hastily, starting a fast walk across the field. "Come on, let's go!"

"Jones!"

Uh-oh.

Agent Kane was plodding across the field toward them, anger in his eyes. FP was jogging behind him.

"What the hell are you kids doing here? You had direct orders to stay behind!" Agent Kane looked more intimidating than usual with his Kevlar vest and a large assault rifle in his hands, but Jughead stayed planted where he was. "How did you even know where we were heading?"

"I know how to track a car. I know how to tail someone, even if they are in an unmarked vehicle." Jughead took a defiant step forward, staring down Kane. "And I don't care if we had direct orders from a federal agent - Betty needs us." He paused for a second as Archie, Veronica, Kevin, and Cheryl came up on either side of him. "And if one of our friends needs us, you can be damn sure we'll be there for them."

Jughead's eyes glowed through the dark as he kept them locked on Kane's. FP came bustling up between them.

"Listen, Quinton, I'll take full responsibility for my son and his friends if anything happens, but I thought it would make a world of difference to Betty if she could see her friends here – out of danger-," FP throw Jughead a sharp look, "-before she gets overwhelmed by the bureaucratic aftermath of this thing."

Agent Kane kept his tense stance as he looked between FP and Jughead. "They cannot come anywhere near the building. And if I have to I will send one of my highly-trained agents out here to be a babysitter. Which I'm sure they'll be just thrilled about." He turned brusquely and jogged back toward the amassing FBI agents.

"Thanks, Dad," Jughead said as FP swung around to face him. "I thought we were far enough away that we wouldn't evoke the wrath of Kane."

"Lay off the jokes, Jug, this is high-pressure stuff. He's lost men in the field before, he doesn't want the blood of teenagers on his hands." FP was looking slightly past Jughead as he answered. Jughead could see his gun shaking in his hands.

"Sorry, Mr. Jones." Archie stepped forward, "We understand the seriousness of the situation, we won't take it lightly." He threw a look to Jughead before turning back to FP. "But, do we get vests, too? To keep us safe?"

"Oh no," FP straightened up, "You aren't going in."

Everyone began protesting now. "What? Then why would you tell us to come all this way?" Jughead's eyes flashed.

"As I said – you're here for when we get Betty out. She needs you all in one piece."

Jughead stared at FP, searching his face before relaxing his shoulders. He sighed, "And we need her - and you - back in one piece." Jughead grabbed his dad's shaking hands.

FP nodded, then turned and ran toward the building. The teens watched from a distance as a dozen or so small tactical lights blinked on and circled the school. The lights were still for a moment, then a shout rang through the wind, and a swarm of FBI agents burst through the doors.

* * *

Alice ran down the hall, poking her head into every open room she passed, making sure no one was in any of them; Farmie or Betty alike. She figured she wasn't here, but given what Charles had told her and Edgar's crazed exit with a loaded gun, she couldn't be too far away.

A knot was twisting in Alice's stomach. _Missing for weeks_. Charles' words bounced around her head. Edgar's had her baby for weeks. The food, the medical supplies he carried off... the night he came back covered in dirt and scratches - it all left a different taste in her mouth now. She should've known. She should've tried to stop him earlier. But now it might be too late.

A few drowsy and flustered-looking people jogged past and Alice told them to head to the cafeteria.

She had convinced Evelyn to gather everyone there so they could all be accounted for and then easily escorted out through one of the back doors. To Alice, this meant that everyone would be in one place and could easily be contained if the FBI really was on their way. And considering her call to Charles had been a few hours ago, she assumed they would be here any minute.

The rest of the hall was clear and she bounced into the closest stairwell.

Heavy footfalls and small radio chatter suddenly sounded below her on the staircase. Alice's heart pounded.

_Yes._

They were here. She was just about to round the corner when she caught a glimpse of who was approaching through the banister.

_No. _

Alice pressed herself into an alcove in the wall and slowed her breathing. It wasn't the FBI heading toward her, but two of Edgar's followers with walkie-talkies in hand. They tromped past her and disappeared through a door. Alice was about to follow them when Evelyn appeared in the stairwell above her.

"Alice! Everyone is out from the top floors, I think just about everyone is in the cafeteria, we should go join them."

"No!" Alice was surprised at how strong her response was, but her anger and fear was growing. Evelyn stared at her quizzically as she joined Alice on the lower landing. "I mean, if the authorities really were following Penelope, then they might be here any second. We should make sure you get out before anyone else. So you can meet up with Edgar just in case anything happens here."

Evelyn looked sympathetically at Alice. "You would do that?"

"Of course." Alice gave her a smile. "We're sisters. Now, come on. This way, I think I know a way out." She grabbed Evelyn's arm and raced down the closest hallway.

* * *

FP's heart raced as he followed Charles into the building. It looked like they had entered somewhere on the main floor and he could hear gasps and screams ahead as agents rushed through the lobby and spread throughout the halls.

The hall they were currently in was dark and FP was treading carefully behind Charles and Kane as they navigated their way further in, knocking doors open as they went. FP had been in his fair share of close calls and precarious situations with the Serpents, but this was on a whole new level. The only thing he could see was the red and white lights from the surrounding agents, and his heavy breathing was uncomfortably loud in his ears. There was no way he could imagine bringing all the kids into a scene like this.

Kane suddenly raised a fist and everyone stopped. Hurried footsteps could be heard coming from a hallway off to their left and the agents pressed themselves against the wall, flanking either side of the door. FP pressed himself next to Charles and craned his neck, trying to see what was happening.

Two people burst through the door and froze as the agents turned their lights and weapons on them.

"Whoops. Must have made a wrong turn."

FP pushed aside the agent that was in front of him. He could recognize that cutting sass anywhere. Alice was standing in front of him with her arms raised, staring smugly at a gaping Evelyn.

"Alice?" FP stepped forward hesitantly. Two agents rushed passed him and held Evelyn's arms behind her back as they cuffed her.

Alice whipped her head around. "FP!" Her face relaxed as she saw him and he couldn't help but smile.

"That's Riverdale's sheriff…" He could hear Evelyn say as she looked angrily around at the agents that were now continuing to move past her down the hall. "…and the FBI." She turned her eyes to Alice. "You."

"Me." Alice smirked and waved at Evelyn as she was dragged away. Evelyn let out a frustrated scream as she was pushed around a corner. Alice watched and then dropped her arms, turning toward FP.

"FP, Charles, oh thank goodness you're here. Did you get Edgar? Did you find Betty?" She was talking fast and her eyes darted between the two of them.

FP looked at Charles, who had gone up to Alice and was holding her shoulders. "No, Alice. What do you mean? Edgar isn't keeping Betty here?"

"No!" Alice was growing more panicked. "I don't know where he has her. But Edgar left about twenty minutes ago, and oh God, he had a gun. And two of his followers went after him just a few minutes ago, did you see them?"

Charles shook his head. "No, we haven't seen anybody leave the building. Edgar's not here?" Charles looked over to Kane. FP continued staring at Alice.

"No! And did you hear me? He has a gun and he said he had one more thing to take care of! He's talking about Betty! We have to go. Now!" Alice barked at Kane as she pushed Charles toward the door.

"Alice, we will, we promise. We just have to finish our sweep here." Charles looked to FP. "FP, get her outside. I'll meet you there as soon as I can." Charles nodded to him and then disappeared down the hall with Agent Kane.

"Come on, FP. We have to go." Alice shoved past him toward the nearest door.

"Hold on," FP grabbed her arm and when she spun toward him, he leaned down and kissed her. He closed his eyes and stayed there for a moment, but he felt Alice thrust him back.

FP opened his eyes to see Alice running out the door. "Edgar! Gun! Intimacy can wait!" She disappeared out of view and FP smiled as he jogged after her.

* * *

The wind rustled through the tree branches above Jughead as he impatiently paced in front of the two trucks. The FBI had rushed the building only a few minutes ago and they could neither see nor hear anything going on in the school. Luckily Kane hadn't followed through with his threat of a babysitter and the teens were left to themselves outside.

"If you pace any harder, Jughead, you're going to start digging a trench." Kevin gave him a tentative smile. Jughead glared back.

"What else is there to do? Just wait? I can't take it!" Jughead threw up his hands irritably.

"Yeah, me neither." Archie had been leaning against his truck bed but shot up and walked over to Jughead. "I'm getting restless."

"Hey, what's that?" Veronica pointed at the side of the school. Jughead squinted in the direction of her finger.

Two men were bounding up a stairwell that looked like it came up from a basement. When they reached the grass, they abruptly turned and started running toward the field all the cars were parked in.

"Hey, they're coming this way. Get down!" Jughead pushed Archie and Veronica down and crawled under Archie's truck. Kevin dived under his own truck and Cheryl edged next to him. The teens held their breath as the two pairs of legs neared the trucks.

Jughead could hear radio static and he peeked out from around the tire. The taller of the two men was talking into a walkie-talkie. Static poured into the night, but then a chilling voice answered over the radio.

One of the men responded back and then clipped the radio onto his belt.

"What are we doing?" the other asked as the two started moving away from the trucks. "Are we helping him get out of town?"

"He wants us to meet him in the park."

"Did the girl get out again?"

Jughead almost gasped but Veronica slapped a hand over his mouth before he could make a sound.

"Don't know, he didn't say..."

Their voices trailed off as they reached a car hidden at the edge of the tree line and climbed inside. Its headlights glared in the dark and Jughead turned his eyes away. When the light faded, he turned back, watching as the car sped off into the dark.

Jughead shimmied out into the open and stood, everyone else following. They all looked around at each other, their grave and spooked expressions speaking a wordless agreement. Even in their panicked state, they were already starting to scramble back into the cars.

Veronica roared the truck's engine to life and they sped down the path they had watched the two men drive away on. Jughead glanced back at the school as they passed, its large silhouette looming back at him against the light of the moon overhead. A few shadows passed by one of the windows. He swallowed; his dad wouldn't know that they had left. There was no time to tell the FBI about who wasn't in the building.

But this was it.

This might be his last chance to find her.

* * *

Hiram stood in the hallway, staring gleefully in the direction of the courtyard. Captain Patton walked up beside him, flanked with six other senior security personnel.

"Are you ready for this, Hiram?"

"You should be asking yourself if _you're _ready, Patton. I've been waiting for this moment since I arrived at this prison." Hiram shot a lurid smile at Captain Patton and nodded. "Let's do this, boys."

Captain Patton raised his gun and entered the hallway leading to the courtyard, Hiram keeping in step next to him.

The first clue that something was wrong was when Hiram couldn't hear anything beyond the doors. He frowned, but it wasn't enough to make him worry. He built this place with thick walls, after all.

They approached the double doors and stopped. Captain Patton looked over and Hiram nodded slowly. The security officers lined up against the door alongside him, all ready to ram against the blockade.

"Go!" Hiram shouted and they all pushed at once. The doors swung open far more easily than he was anticipating and he almost tumbled into the courtyard. But he regained his composure and stood as Captain Patton rushed beside him.

His face dropped. He certainly was not expecting to find what was in front of him.

All of the inmates were restrained and lined up against the fence. A handful of them along with a few guards were sitting at a picnic table having their injuries tended to. Tom Keller was standing in the middle of the yard facing the doors, his arms crossed and an expectant smile on his face.

"Well, well, Hiram. Late to your own party. How very uncharacteristic of you." He smirked and sauntered forward.

Hiram frowned and stepped toward Tom. He reached a hand out to Patton, telling him to lower his gun.

Tom swung a pair of handcuffs around in his hand. "What were you planning to do, Hiram? Storm in here with all the guards that are in your pocket and take back your prison? Pretending to be loyal to your fellow inmates while you were actually just setting them up for failure?" Tom was talking a bit louder than he needed to be.

Hiram glowered at Tom, but put his hands behind his back and straightened up. "No, sir. These fellows are my friends-," Hiram raised his hands toward the prisoners lined against the wall. "I was coming to help them, but Captain Patton was on my tail."

"Oh yeah? Then why did he lower his weapon on your order?" Tom raised his arms in response and swept his gaze over the mix of guards and inmates. He turned back to Hiram. "You can cut the act, Hiram. You already started losing people when that hole in the fence you told them about ended up not existing."

Hiram glanced at Donnie. His was nose bleeding and he had a black eye forming, but he gave Hiram a murderous look. "Should've known a snake doesn't shed his skin so easily," Donnie howled, spitting a mouthful of blood on the ground. Jack and Vic were sitting at the picnic table getting injuries wrapped, but looked up as well.

"Once they started noticing something was off, it was quite easy to corral everyone," Tom continued. "Once they saw that there was one lie, they began to question everything else. They know that you let Chic go. They also know that he's dead."

There were a few bays and howls from the inmates.

"And oh, turns out that the donation at the rally wasn't from Captain Patton, but lo and behold, from you, Hiram. And to add fuel to the fire you started, you took away everyone's wages. Except for yours, of course."

Hiram could feel a dozen eyes burning into him.

"And Patton," Tom walked up in between Hiram and the captain, "you didn't really think you were getting that money he promised, did you? You do know his assets are frozen, right?"

Captain Patton glanced over at Hiram, but now even he was glaring. Hiram shuffled his feet.

"Solid game, Hiram. But for what?"

"Good graces, Tom. I think you know a thing or two about having your name disgraced in front of a whole town."

"No thanks to you," Tom huffed.

"I wanted Riverdale to see me in the light again. I don't belong inside my own prison."

"I believe that's called dramatic irony." Tom smiled as he placed the handcuffs on Hiram's wrists and turned him toward the doors. "Now you aren't getting out of here for a _long _time."

Hiram grimaced as he was led past all the scowling inmates and guards. "Is that all, Tom? Are you done with this public ridicule yet?"

"One more thing," Tom said as he led Hiram inside. He walked in front of him and looked Hiram in the eye. "Veronica wanted me to tell you: checkmate."

* * *

Betty pushed herself up against the door and jimmied the wire inside the lock. She twisted and turned until she heard it click. Turning the knob, she repositioned herself against the door as the chain on the outside caught. No falling through this time.

The new lock that had been installed was a bit more difficult than the one before, but she thrust the wire inside with determination. No threats, no fear - nothing was keeping her from getting out this time. She could feel herself shaking slightly; she still didn't have much strength, but, whatever may come she had to push through. She shook and pried the wire around until she finally felt the tumblers fall into place.

_Pop!_

She threw the chain down and pushed open the door, drinking in the moonlight as it washed over the porch. Betty looked out into the forest in front of her and paused.

Edgar was standing in the grass just in front of the cabin, his eyes wild and his mouth twisted, a gun in the hand at his side.

Betty took a step forward and situated herself at the top of the stairs. Edgar didn't move. He just kept his eyes trained on her.

"I thought you said you weren't going to come back for a while," Betty cautioned, inching onto the top step.

"Change of plans," Edgar uttered, his chest rising and falling forcefully, his eyes unblinking.

"Uh-huh." Betty took another step forward. This time, so did Edgar. She stopped. "Is the devil following you now too, Edgar?"

The wind shook the swing on the porch and the chains creaked jarringly. The orange light from the cabin shined warmly at Betty's back while the blue moonlight bathed her in an ethereal swell. Her shadow stretched over the grass, almost reaching to where Edgar stood with his back to the light.

"We're at the end, Betty."

He titled his head, moonlight reflecting off of his cold eyes. A chill crept up Betty's spine.

"Is this how it was always going to end? Torture then death?" Her tone was melancholic as she glanced down at the gun in his hand.

"No." Edgar took a few slow steps forward. His expression seemed almost sad. "The end was going to be beautiful. Fate found… nothing more beautiful than that. I was giving you time to make a choice. But now fate is forcing my hand." There was a troubling ache in his words.

Betty crept down another step. Edgar edged forward. "But I've made a choice. You said this was a battleground, right? Well, I'm choosing to get back up." She spoke in a rhythmic tone, sliding her tongue over a few words.

Edgar grimaced and moved his arm. Betty flinched but didn't lose eye contact.

"You shot arrow after ruthless arrow at me, and I laid there broken and bleeding for a while, just like you wanted me to." Betty stepped down to the grass, her eyes blazing now. "But it made me realize that most of my life has been shadowed by my past, but I'm finally ready to start living for my future. I know who I am. Or rather, I remembered who I am, and she's taking her life back."

Edgar's mouth twitched and he bared his teeth in a drawn-out snarl, balling his open hand into a fist.

"That's not what you wanted to hear, was it?" Betty lulled.

"My purpose is to break people out of the silly illusions they live in," Edgar sneered. "You're no hero, Betty."

Betty shook her head. "No, I'm not. I'm just a kid who's trying to do right. A kid who's efforts to keep her family together somehow got her a mortal enemy." Betty's lips curled into a contemptuous smile, "And how sad it is that you consider a mere 17-year-old as your biggest enemy. How uncertain of yourself you must be."

Edgar let out a savage roar, his eyes flashing. He raised the gun and fired. Betty ducked and the bullet ricocheted off one of the railing posts. Betty lunged at Edgar, producing the plate shard in her hand, and brought it down hard into his shoulder.

He howled, dropping the gun to reach for his bleeding shoulder. Betty scooped it up and frantically turned heel, running toward the sound of the stream, once more entering into the depths of the wilderness around her.

* * *

The teens continued through the darkness behind the car of the two Farmies. They had followed them to the other side of the small town and were now driving down a dirt path that was weaving through thick trees. A sign at the beginning of the road indicated that they were in an area called "Guindon Park," and were at present driving deeper and deeper into the forest.

Jughead was completely on edge and, judging by the thick silence in the truck, so was everyone else. Archie was leaning as far forward as he could to stare out the front window, even though there was nothing to see but black.

Finally, a small gravel parking lot opened to the right and the car pulled to a stop. The men jumped out of the vehicle and immediately darted into the woods.

Veronica and Kevin quietly parked, and Archie grabbed two flashlights from the glove compartment as he slipped out of the truck. He flipped one to Kevin and carried the other.

All of the teens softly jogged into the woods, keeping their distance from the men ahead of them. Jughead's blood began to boil as he watched them easily navigate the paths twisting through the forest. They had been here before.

The moonlight was disappearing and the shadows around them seemed to grow thicker. Jughead knew they were getting relatively far away from where they had entered the path.

Suddenly the two men stopped and Archie threw his arms out to stop the others. They all quickly ducked into a patch of bushes nearby and peered through the branches. The two Farmies seemed to be arguing over something, but they couldn't hear what.

"Hey guys, look!" Cheryl whispered, pointing through the trees at a faint orange glow in the distance. "What's that?"

Jughead looked past the men and squinted at the glow. "It looks like… a cabin." His breath caught in his throat. "That's it! That has to be where she is!"

"Not again," Veronica hissed, looking over at Jughead and Archie.

Kevin started to squirm. He looked between the group in the bush and the Farmies and then started climbing to his feet.

"No, Kevin!" Jughead grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. "What are you doing?"

"Jughead, if Betty is in that cabin you have to get there before those creeps do. Let me distract them. I can lead them away while you slip by." Kevin shook Jughead's hand away and stared doggedly at him.

"I'll go with him so he's not alone," Cheryl added quickly, crawling closer to the two of them.

Jughead stared between them for a moment then sighed. Archie and Veronica were looking at him, their eyebrows upturned nervously, but knowingly. He turned back and nodded. Kevin smiled reassuringly and he and Cheryl popped up from the bush.

"Wait!" Jughead whispered. He grabbed the slingshot from his back pocket and handed it to Kevin. "For good luck."

Kevin took it, giving him a small smile before nodding. Then he bounded straight toward the two men. "Hey!" he yelled. "Hey, you two!"

Cheryl whistled and waved her arms. The men looked over and began moving closer to them. Jughead, Archie, and Veronica watched them nervously.

"What are you kids doing way out here?"

"Just out on a late-night jog, and we got a little lost. Would you mind helping us? You see I need to use the restroom and I _really_ don't want to have to use a tree," Kevin goaded, a mocking grin on his face.

The Farmies looked at each other and marched forward. Kevin's smile faltered a bit and he darted off, Cheryl right behind him. The two men gave chase.

Jughead, Archie, and Veronica waited until they were far enough out of view and then barreled their way out of the bushes and toward the orange haze of that lone cabin in the woods.

* * *

FP and Alice bounded down the front steps of the school and began fervently moving across the parking lot toward the open field. A cluster of FBI agents that included Charles was leading a group of dazed people away from the building. FP and Alice walked next to them.

"We'll take everyone to one of our facilities to get them checked out and cleared," Charles explained, "They'll have to go through a round of questioning so we can get everyone back to their proper homes or to treatment. And figure out which ones were complicit to the Evernever's operations."

"Good luck. You might have to stomach pump to get the Kool-Aid out of some of these people," Alice chided back, the wind whipping her hair fervently around her face.

"Dammit." FP had stopped in his tracks and was looking out across the field. "The kids are gone."

"What do you mean the kids are gone?" Alice rounded on FP. "What did you do, bring Jughead with you?"

FP looked down at Alice a bit sheepishly. "He and a few others followed us." When Alice continued to stare up at him ardently, he added, "They came for Betty. So she could see her friends."

Alice stared at him for a second, then shook her head, her face and shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Mom? Mom, what's going on?"

Alice turned her head. Polly was pushing her way through the group of people toward them.

Alice rushed forward, grabbing one of Polly's hands. "Baby, it's okay. Just go with these people for now, they'll keep you safe. I'll see you soon, okay? Everything's going to be fine."

Polly stared after Alice with worry in her eyes as she was pushed forward with the flow of the crowd. Alice turned back to FP, her expression completely altered.

"I can't lose another kid, FP. I can't." Alice's voice was shaking. She started to wring her hands.

"Alice, look at me." FP grabbed her shoulders and looked resolutely in her eyes. "We're going to find her. It's going to be okay." But he could hear his own voice wavering. They didn't know where Edgar had gone. And now he didn't know where the kids he had allowed to come had gone either.

Just then, Charles came hurrying over, "Look who we found."

Kane was leading a cuffed and irate Penelope toward them. Alice's eyes flared and she pulled out of FP's grip, marching forcefully over to Penelope.

"Where is she, Penelope? What did you do?" Alice screamed, getting into Penelope's face. FP jogged over and reached a hand out to Alice, but Charles put an arm out and shook his head.

"Well, Alice, you really fooled us all," Penelope droned, "I really thought you had gone off the deep end, but a double agent? I'm impressed."

"Stop stalling! I heard you and Edgar talking, where is she? Where's Betty?" Alice's words were flying out in a rushed tone.

"And think carefully about your next answer," Charles interjected, coming up beside Alice, "We already know you're involved with this."

"And we know all about what you did last spring," FP added angrily.

Charles nodded and continued, "So you're going down regardless. But Edgar left you here to take his fall, you can make sure he goes down too."

Everyone's eyes drilled into Penelope. She carefully looked around and exhaled, the hostility in her eyes fading. "I honestly don't know. Edgar never let me see where he was keeping the brat."

"Liar!" Alice sprang forward, tears bubbling in her eyes.

* * *

Kevin and Cheryl hurtled down a lightly worn path, finding themselves in step parallel to a stream that cut through the forest. They could hear the Farmies crashing through the trees behind them.

"So, what's the plan?" Cheryl shouted over at Kevin as she ducked under a low-hanging tree branch.

"Uhh, well," Kevin huffed, throwing her an apologetic smile, "running away was the plan."

Cheryl grew quiet next to him and he glanced over his shoulder; there was currently a fair distance between them and Edgar's orderlies, but he knew that wouldn't last forever. He had no idea what direction they were heading and the woods were dark and unfamiliar. His heart was thumping and his panicked breathing was in his ears.

He panned his head; he wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he peered into the dark anyway, searching, hoping for anything that might give him an idea. A faint light appeared, flitting between the trees in the distance. Cheryl hissed at him and pointed, noticing it too. Kevin pushed himself into a faster stride.

Rounding a small thicket of bushes and trees, Kevin and Cheryl slowed to a halt in front of a small outpost. Kevin opened the door and clicked on his flashlight, its hazy light falling over mapped walls and a large desk.

"There's a radio here!" Kevin whispered excitedly, scrambling over to the desk. "We can tap into the frequency on FP's radio and let them know where we are!"

"Do you even know how to use that thing?" Cheryl eyed the transistor radio skeptically.

"Oh, please," Kevin puffed, "I've been playing with the police departments' radio system since I was a kid and those things are ancient. This is nothing." He flipped the board to life and started fiddling with the knobs.

A loud bang sounded through the room as the door burst open.

"There you kids are."

The men grinned menacingly at Kevin and Cheryl. Their forms completely filled the doorway. Kevin dropped the transceiver and backed up. He could feel Cheryl tense up beside him.

"Hey, we recognize you two." A sly smiled curled on one of the men's lips. "You were at The Farm back in Riverdale. You were the one that got left behind." He stepped forward and nodded his head at Kevin. "Aw, you miss Edgar too much?"

"No, you dime-store Death Eater," Cheryl spat, "we came to end that monster's reign of terror."

The man smiled wickedly, taking another step forward. "Your little friend tried to do that, too. Didn't turn out so well for her." Kevin's stomach dropped. The man looked around the station. "She tried hiding here too." His gaze went down to the floor.

Kevin followed his gaze.

There were scratch marks covering the floor under his feet.

Both the men snickered and Kevin felt his anger surge. He looked over at Cheryl, "Get the frequency set to 45.37 and get FP. These guys are going down," Kevin whispered before shoving her behind him.

"Rahh!" He leaped forward, ramming into the first man's chest. He knocked back into the other with a surprised grunt and all three toppled through the door and onto the grass.

The man tried to grab Kevin's arms as they landed, but he flipped around to his back, wrapping his heels around the man's, pinning his legs to the ground. They were both about the same build and Kevin could tell he was strong, but he could also tell by his jerky movements that the goon had probably never wrestled in his life.

The man snarled and tried to kick out, but found he couldn't. Kevin wrapped his arms around his neck in a chokehold and held until he could feel the man's breathing slow. As soon as the man went limp under his grip, Kevin rolled out from under him and attempted to stand, but found a heel crunching into the back of his knee.

Kevin yelped and looked up. The other man was looking down at him, his face shadowed in the broken moonlight that reached through the canopy of trees. He was holding a large rock above his head, a cruel smile on his face. He twisted his foot down harder on Kevin's leg. Kevin stretched forward and tried to grab at the man's other leg, but his body was contorted at a weird angle. He swallowed and closed his eyes as the man brought his arm down.

_Whump!_

Kevin slowly opened one eye. The rock had dropped to the ground next to him. The man stumbled, a pained look on his face, then crumpled to the ground. Kevin blinked and looked up.

Cheryl was standing directly behind where the man had just been, the slingshot still nocked in her hand.

"Thanks," Kevin said as Cheryl reached out a hand to pull him up. He shook out his leg; his knee was throbbing, but everything seemed to still be working.

"Two birds." Cheryl shrugged breathlessly before heading back into the outpost. "Now, come on. Let's finish this."

* * *

"Alice, no!" FP dashed forward, but Alice was already on top of Penelope.

Kane stumbled and FP wrapped his arms around Alice, pulling her away.

"That's enough!" Kane called gruffly, pushing a recoiling Penelope toward one of the FBI cars. "We don't need emotions flaring right now." He walked away and Penelope cast one last contentious glare at Alice and FP.

"FP, she's lying. She has to be." Alice's voice wobbled as tears fell down her face. She pressed into FP's shoulder.

FP put his arm around her but looked fearfully over at Charles. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to do now. Charles shook his head. He didn't have an answer either.

Static suddenly rang out into the night air, making FP jump and pull away from Alice. FP tugged the radio off his belt and held it in front of him. He waited. It had grown quiet.

A minute passed. Then another. Alice and Charles stared at it with bated breath. Another burst of static erupted from the radio and suddenly a voice called into the night.

FP's heart trembled and he let out a relieved gasp as he called back into the mic.

"Kevin? Where are you?"

* * *

Betty raced through the woods, her heart pounding uncomfortably in her chest. Shadows whizzed past and the stream bubbled and gurgled next to her.

She fiddled with the gun, trying to pop open the chamber. Her breathing was already growing heavy and she knew she couldn't run forever, but she didn't want to fight either. She wanted the gun out of play, but her shaking fingers kept slipping against the cold metal.

Something hard knocked into her back and suddenly she was falling forward into the stream. Ice cold water flooded her mouth and nose, and any breath she had left was now completely ripped from her lungs. A shock ran through her body and for a frightening second her vision went black, but she quickly lifted her head and sputtered, flipping upright.

Water dripped down Edgar's crazed face as he held the bloodied piece of plate above her.

"No!" she screamed and turned her head, sending a volley of water into his face as he brought the spike down.

He choked and his hand splashed next to her ear. She kicked up, her foot connecting in just the right place as Edgar howled and rolled off her.

She crawled away, pulling herself through the water toward the shore. The gun was lying in the mud and she reached for it. A hand wrapped around her ankle instead and yanked backward. Betty could feel a rock slice through her jeans and into her skin. She gasped and got another mouthful of water.

She pushed against the bottom and raised her head. Edgar had almost reached the shore, but Betty got to her feet and leaped with what strength she could and landed on shore, wrapping her hand around the gun at the same time as Edgar.

Betty thrust upward, feeling her injured shoulder begin to throb again from the fall, and a shot fired into the air. She swept his feet out from under him and rolled to the side as he fell in the mud, knocking his head into the ground. The gun skittered away and she grabbed it.

She quickly stood to her feet, ignoring the blistering chill that was cutting through her as the air met her wet frame, and tossed the gun as hard as she could into a nearby thorny patch of bushes.

Edgar staggered and reached toward her, but he stumbled. His forehead was bleeding and it looked like he was having trouble focusing his eyes. Betty didn't hesitate to sprint away, and through her coughing, she sucked in as much oxygen as she could, knowing full well she was running for her life.

* * *

Jughead, Archie, and Veronica ran up the steps of the cabin. The door was wide open and Archie and Veronica rushed inside. Jughead stopped on the porch and bent down, turning the lock and chain over in his hand, the enmity inside him growing.

He moved inside the cabin and looked around; dull wood paneling lined the bare walls, and dead cinders and soot covered the floor in front of a fireplace. Veronica was hunched over an open floorboard and Archie was standing in front of a couch, a blanket in his hand, staring sullenly at the window over it.

"The windows have bars on them," he mumbled, twisting the blanket in his hands. "He built her a prison."

Jughead turned his eyes dejectedly away and walked past them. He passed by a small kitchenette where a few plates of uneaten food still sat. He wandered into the bedroom, ducking his head into the bathroom momentarily before pausing. The room was small and lined with the same paneling as the front room. There were more windows with more bars. A ripped up sheet lay across a dusty dresser in the corner and, besides a bed and small nightstand, nothing else was in the room. He knelt down next to the bed. The covers and sheets were untidy and there was a large rip in the side of the mattress.

His stomach twisted and he threw his hand against the wall to steady himself. A few splinters caught against his palm and he turned, pulling his hand away. He gasped, anguish replacing his anger as he found himself gazing at tally marks etched roughly into the wall. He gently stretched his hand back out, mentally counting as he traced his finger along each one.

"She stopped counting," Jughead breathed quietly as Archie and Veronica entered the room. He stood, letting his gaze fall over the desolate room once more before suddenly turning. He let out a sharp gasp and pushed through his friends until he was back out onto the porch.

He shook, letting the cold air brush over his face as he pulled in spiked breaths. He wrapped his hands around the banister and tried to breathe slowly; everything he had been holding back was now threatening to come loose.

He heard footsteps behind him and forced himself to turn around. Archie had walked onto the porch, tears in his eyes and the blanket still in his hand.

"She's not here." Veronica appeared behind him, her face unreadable.

"Does that mean we're too late?" Archie sniffed. He looked down hesitantly and Veronica moved in front of him, wrapping her hand around a notch on the railing.

"No, no!" Jughead shook his head insistently and slammed his hands against the banister, forcing his dread to stay down. "We are not giving up hope yet, we can't! We came all this way, we're not leaving without her! Look, everything here suggests that we're not too late – that she got out and is still alive. And if that's the case then it's our job as her friends to go back out into the darkness until we find her!"

He marched down the steps and stood in the middle of the small lawn in front of the cabin, the whole night's events racing through his head, fueling the fire that was working its way through him. "You hear me, Edgar?" he screamed into the black forest, the wind swirling around him. "You won't win! She's going home!"

A gunshot answered in the distance.

He froze and all three heads turned in the direction of the sound. Jughead glanced at Archie and Veronica and they immediately dashed into the woods, the echo of the shot drifting over them in the night.

He begged that he hadn't spoken too soon.

* * *

Betty pushed into the middle of a large clearing. Broken moonlight splintered through the trees, casting a checkered pattern over the grass. She stopped and hunched over, pulling in ragged breaths. She grabbed her shoulder with one hand and looked down at her leg. The bottom of her jeans was red, but she could barely even feel the gash in the cold.

She had started shivering when she had stopped. The wind bit through her sopping clothes and black dots were threatening to take over her vision. But she had to keep going. She had to… had to… what was that?

Faint voices whispered on the wind and she thought she could hear her name. Betty leaned into the night and quieted her breathing as much as she could.

The voices were growing louder and closer and they were without a doubt calling her name. One voice rose higher than the rest and there was a flicker somewhere inside her. It spread, melting through some of the chill that had enveloped her.

"Jughead?" she whispered, listening once more to make sure it wasn't just delirium. Leaf crunches and twig snaps echoed through the forest around her, and footfalls were racing toward her from somewhere in the distance. "Jughead!" she called louder, her heart racing out of something other than fatigue now, "I'm here!"

_Crack._

A bullet ripped through the side of her jacket, brushing precariously close to her skin. She whirled around.

Cold, wild eyes were locked on her. The cut on Edgar's head was dripping red down his snarled face, and Betty was staring straight down the barrel of his revolver.

* * *

"Jughead! I'm here!"

Betty's hoarse but very real voice met his ears and his heart and legs moved a little faster. Archie broke into a full sprint next to him and Veronica was keeping step on his other side.

There was no path through the trees where they were and so they pushed through thick undergrowth and foliage. A booming crack directly ahead kicked them into high gear as they entered a final stretch of woods until they suddenly burst forth into the silver and shadowed clearing.

And then there she was.

Betty was standing on the other side of the clearing. She was soaking wet; her clothes were streaked with mud and small cuts, and her leg was covered in blood. Jughead's gaze rose to her face and he locked eyes. She returned the stare, a soft tic pulling at the edge of her mouth. For a moment, they were the only two in the clearing.

But then a metallic click reverberated over the wind and Betty's eyes flicked away from his. Edgar was standing in between them, pointing a gun at Betty's head.

"Edgar, you're outnumbered!" Jughead bellowed as he slowly stepped forward, waving his knife around. His chest was tightening, and not just because of the cold wrapping itself around him. He'd heard all the stories from Betty, and he had seen Edgar a handful of times before, but this was utterly alarming. Edgar had turned his head away from Betty, passing a crazed look over Archie, Jughead, and Veronica. His shoulders were rising and falling sharply and his mouth was twitching unnervingly as blood curled over his exposed teeth. Jughead had to admit that he was scared, but he kept his eyes firmly on Betty. "Put the gun down. You lost."

Edgar narrowed his eyes and looked curiously between the three of them while he kept the gun aimed at Betty. Archie curled his fists and moved next to Jughead, trying to draw Edgar's attention to him while Veronica slowly inched around the edge of the clearing.

Betty let out a pacified sigh as her eyes bounced around the clearing. She quietly started to shuffle in Veronica's direction. "See, I told you, I told you my friends would come for me."

"Shut up!" Edgar pounced so quickly that Jughead flinched. He spun behind Betty as she tried to move, clamping a hand tightly over her mouth, the gun now pressed up against her neck.

Everyone in the clearing froze. Jughead's breath wedged in his throat.

Edgar's eyes had taken on a spectral gleam, and a small, sputtering cackle escaped his lips. Like a decaying and discarnate banshee screech, it echoed into the biting silence, growing more manic and delirious until it became a rasping, hysterical laugh.

"Well, look at this. You get to make that choice after all, Betty." He smiled an incredibly unsettling smile. Betty strained against him, but Edgar tightened his grip and her eyes grew wide.

Jughead didn't like those words, he didn't like that laugh, and he most certainly did not like the way Edgar was directing that wicked smile at Betty. He tried to keep his eyes trained on hers, wanting to make sure she could see him, wanting to make sure she knew he was still there.

"The board is set for one final move. The last temptation." Edgar lifted the gun and wagged it at Archie and Jughead. "I have three bullets left. You have three friends here. Fate has sent you one final choice - you can add the blood of your friends to your hands, or-," he snapped his tongue over his teeth, "you can save them and end the cycle. Letting your death be the atonement."

The trees began to sway, their branches creaking gallingly, and the wind sounded like a freight train in Jughead's ear. Moonbeams were sliding in and out of the clearing, their silver light colliding with the silver metal that was suspended in the wake of everyone's fear. Archie stood frozen beside Jughead, his shaking fists slowly uncurling, and Veronica was staring desperately back at him, her eyes pleading for someone to make a move.

Tears were falling down Betty's face, but Jughead noticed that her eyes were steady and her shivering had stopped. Her eyes turned to Veronica, who's face almost immediately contorted. Her eyes went to Archie, and he shuffled slightly on his feet, looking woozy. Her gaze lingered for a moment, and then she turned to Jughead, and for the second time that night, everything in him stopped working. Betty's green eyes were calm, but they were saying a million little things to him, more than anything he could ever put down on a page. And then she gave him a gentle nod.

He shook his head, his eyes widening. Tears were falling down his face now, and he stared back, trying to say his own a million little things.

No, Betty. No, those weren't the only two options. They could still get out of this. All of them.

Edgar watched their silent interaction, his eyes darting between the two of them. Blood frothed around his bottom teeth as his mouth curled into a cruel expression. He let out another scraping laugh, cocking the gun in his grip. "Then let it be so."

"No!" Jughead, Archie, and Veronica all cried as Edgar raised the gun to Betty's head.

_Crack._

Edgar stiffened, his mouth twitching and the ferocity in his eyes hollowing as he slowly looked down. Blood was oozing down his arm and flowing onto his trembling hand. The gun slipped out of his grasp.

"Get away from my daughter!"

Alice burst through the tree line, her narrowed eyes burning hotter than the gun in her hands. FP ran up behind her, quickly glancing down at his now-empty side holster before he raised his head, his look of amused surprise turning to concerned shock as he took in the scene in the clearing.

Red dot sights and tactical lights began to flood the clearing as FBI agents circled the area, all sights set on Edgar. Kevin and Cheryl ran up alongside Charles. Kevin waved a walkie-talkie triumphantly in his hands. "Who called for back-up?"

Betty pushed away from Edgar as he clutched his shoulder and fell to his knees. Jughead let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and rushed forward, wrapping Betty in his arms as she came crashing into him. Veronica and Archie scurried over and joined the huddle. Archie draped the blanket he had carried with him over Betty.

FP and Charles lifted Edgar to his feet and wrenched his arms behind his back. Agent Kane chattered something into his radio and turned to Edgar. "You're going away for a long time, bub. To somewhere you can't hurt anyone anymore."

As they started to lead him away, Kane glanced over at Jughead, giving him a small nod. Jughead met his eye and gave him a nod back.

Alice had since moved beside Betty, but she turned and folded her arms as the agents towed Edgar past.

"Alice," Edgar stammered as he was shoved past, "you stood unwaveringly beside me. I thought you were on my side."

Alice snorted. "I have no sympathy for the devil, Edgar."

Edgar's eyes flared and he growled, now bucking toward Betty. Jughead tried to turn her away, but she pushed against him and faced Edgar.

"I'm still in your head, Betty. My voice – it's still there!"

Betty stood firmly in front of him. "Yeah, it is. But it's not the only one. My mom's is there, and Jughead's, my friends' – but most importantly so is mine. And with some time and some help, yours will fade."

Edgar snarled and FP and Charles shoved him away.

"Oh, and Edgar," Betty called after him, a contented smile on her lips, "that arm doesn't look too good. You might want to get that fixed up, you don't want it to get infected."

Alice snickered and FP and Charles proceeded to push Edgar into the crowd of FBI agents just beyond the tree line. Kevin and Cheryl joined the circle that had formed itself around Betty. She let out a long sigh and faltered, relaxing back into Jughead's chest.

"We're so sorry, Betty," Archie started, tears hanging in his eyes. "Sorry it took us so long."

"I'm sorry we weren't there for you," Jughead continued, his hands starting to shake. He wrapped them tighter around her. "We left you alone."

"No," Betty exhaled encouragingly, "No, you didn't. You were with me the whole time. You were with me the whole time…"

Her words started to drift off and she swayed. Jughead gently caught her and looked down. Her eyes were closed.

"Hey, Betty! Hey, stay with us!" He lowered her on the grass and Archie and Veronica kneeled down beside them. Jughead reached down, alarm passing through him as his hand brushed against something sticky. He flipped the blanket away and saw red seeping through the side of her jacket.

"Hey, is there a medic here?" Veronica yelled, looking expectantly toward the agents bustling around. Archie pressed his hands against the wound. "We need help!"

Two agents dashed over and started pushing everyone aside. "Back up, we need room!" They laid a stretcher down and repositioned Betty onto it. Archie pulled his hands away as one of the medics took over compressing while the other looped a mask over Betty's face.

Jughead shot to his feet, watching as the medics carried her off and tried to follow, but Veronica held him back. Alice briskly walked beside the medics, holding one of Betty's hands in hers. FP and Charles re-entered the clearing, but Charles doubled back and joined Alice while FP continued toward the teens.

"Dad…"

FP drew Jughead in for a close hug.

"She's safe, she's going to fine," FP reassured, his gaze sweeping over all the teenagers standing shaken under the moonlight. "Everyone's fine. Everyone's going home."

Jughead nodded, pressing into his dad. He peered around FP's shoulder, looking after the medics.

He breathed in and out slowly, matching the rise and fall of FP's chest.

They had found her.

She was safe.

And she was finally going home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, everybody, now take a deep breath in, now out. That's better, isn't it?
> 
> Because I certainly held my breath while writing this one. I hope it was worth the long wait. I legitimately made myself cry a few times with this one; a few of the lines were just so loaded on so many fronts and my emotions got the better of me.
> 
> With that being said, I think I'm going to take a bit of a break before I continue with the next chapter (because don't worry, there's more!) I need to take care of my mental health at the moment and really push through a few things at work with the Christmas season. I'll probably be back sometime in January, maybe sooner depending on my Christmas vacation. Who knows. No promises, though.
> 
> There's been a lot of things in my personal life that I need to focus on at the moment so I can come back and write clear-headed.
> 
> Thank you all for your patience and for sticking with this story so far! It's been very encouraging reading all the comments and interacting with a few of you. So, as always, let me know what you think if you feel so inclined!


	15. Out of the Woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello there, everyone. It's been a bit. Sorry about that.
> 
> I did not expect to be gone so long, but hey, you can't rush healing. I'm not shy about the fact I have depression and sometimes it hits harder than usual. I found a new therapist (therapy is the best thing in the world next to movies & amusement parks and I will stand by that. Ice cream is up there, too.) And work wasn't letting up. But now it seems we're all finding ourselves in a time of some unexpected rest, so to all of you who haven't felt able to breathe easy in a while like me, may this unexpected time of slowing down and adjusting be good to you. Don't ignore what you're feeling. 
> 
> And perhaps there are those of you that still have to work because of the specific industry/service you work in and can't rest. Or who find yourself in a whirlwind of panic about pivotal moments or paychecks being canceled, and I want to say you as well; take a deep breath. It's all going to be okay. We're all in this together.
> 
> So whatever form of social distancing you are practicing, or however this new chapter finds you, I hope it reminds you that there's still air in your lungs and ground your feet. And sometimes that's all that matters :)
> 
> Anyway, thank you so much to everyone for all the incredible comments and passion for this story! I've gotten so many messages asking if I'd be posting soon. And now I'm finally able to say yes! I'm definitely not the fastest writer and I'm okay with that, I just know it's hard to wait at times. So, thank you for the patience and continuing to tag along with me :)
> 
> Seriously, thanks so much, everyone!
> 
> And now, without further ado, the continuation of my inability to write short chapters.

_There’s a distinct stillness that happens after a storm. _

_After the tempest roars its final fury, and the rain is nothing more than glittering remnants under a bright sun, the birds emerge from their hiding places and the trees shake the storm from their heavy branches. _

_There comes a quiet._

_While the FBI rushed around the scene, it was nothing but a blur for the rest of us. I remember water bottles and blankets being handed out, questions being asked, and then exhaustion taking over. _

_We had been ushered to a nearby hotel while Betty had been rushed to the nearest hospital. And when we had awoken, what had seemed like an endless night had been replaced by a shining sun._

_After a quick clean-up and debrief, we were soon back in the cars after learning a nice surprise: the FBI had arranged an airlift back to Riverdale General for Betty after checking that she was stable enough to be moved. Charles thought it might be nice if she could wake up in her own town._

_We thought so, too. _

_The monster had been caged and the lost traveler finally returning home, but underneath all the relief, I could still feel a lingering unease. _

_Betty had yet to open her eyes, and our night in the woods had offered a haunting yet hazy picture of her lost time. And we were all antsy to hear the whole story. But I had a feeling the road there was going to be long and full of bumps._

_But for now, birds were singing. And the current road was open and free._

_I sat beside my father at the head of a line of cars quietly following the black dot of a helicopter. To anyone on the outside, we looked like no more than a normal stream of traffic on the highway, but to us, it was something more: a parade of family and friends traveling through mountains and valleys, clearing a path home for one of their own._

The air in the lobby of Riverdale General Hospital was buzzing with the energy of rushing nurses, lit-up telephones, and a mass of people anxiously crowded amongst the chairs. Alice, FP, Charles, and Agent Kane were talking quietly near the front desk. Kevin had his legs outstretched, testing out the knee brace he had received earlier, while Cheryl sat next to him, flipping absently through a magazine. In the back corner of the lobby, Jughead, Archie, and Veronica sat hunched together, their voices mixing together in a hushed tone.

“Do you think she’ll talk about what happened?” Archie scrunched his brow together as he darted his eyes between Veronica and Jughead.

“She’ll know we’ll be curious, but don’t rush her on anything,” Jughead answered, swirling a small cup of water in his hand. “Let’s not try to push her, even after everything we just saw.” He let out an aggrieved huff, leaning against the creaky waiting room chair.

His mind had resorted back to its fretful swirling after the fairly peaceful ride home and was now alternating between tremendous relief and disconcerting imagery from the previous night.

He was mostly trying to focus on the relief part, especially since Betty was a bit worse for wear at the moment – and he knew that didn’t just go for her physical state.

But it also seemed his rampant imagination wasn’t going to be ignored tonight.

It wasn’t being helped by the fact that the scenic drive had given way to a more stifling and sterile surrounding, making it that much harder to feel calm. 

Hospitals – or perhaps, more accurately, waiting rooms– with their low, opaque lighting and atmospheric mixture of unease, drowsiness, and the unknown always felt off to Jughead. Like an empty airport or a cracked and weed-grown parking lot.

Maybe it was because they were only meant as a place to pass through, not stay. Maybe it was because hospitals were one of the only places where death existed so commonly and unblinkingly. Or maybe it was because the events of the past two days had been so sudden that his brain was the thing that was off.

Whatever it may be, for a place that was built for healing, Jughead always wondered why hospitals had to look and feel so depressing.

Which suddenly sparked another small panic in the back of his head.

Betty hadn’t been in a hospital as a patient for a while. Should he be worried that she might be freaked about being in surgery because of her original ordeal with Edgar?

It struck him that, amongst everything she just went through, nah, _along _with everything she just went through, Betty might have a reason _other_ than the present obvious to be upset and uncomfortable about being stuck in a hospital bed. Uncomfortable about being in a place that’s supposed to feel safe. A place that’s supposed to be healing.

The plastic cup in Jughead’s hand cracked.

“Jughead?”

He looked up. Archie was flicking his eyes between a small puddle that had appeared on the floor and the water that was still dripping down Jughead’s hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jughead leaned over and chucked the wreckage of the cup into the closest garbage can. “My head went somewhere else for a second.”

“It’s okay, man. I think all of our heads are still in the woods.” Archie sank back into his chair and threw a comforting arm over Veronica.

While they had been able to shower and clean up earlier in the day, none of them had brought a change of clothes, and it looked like more than just their heads were still in the woods. Veronica’s pants had grass and mud stains across them, as did Jughead’s jacket. The once-white soles of Archie’s high tops now sported a few spots of dried blood.

“Speaking of-,” Veronica straightened up, a twinge of discomfort forming in her eyes, “about Fox Forest, about-”

“-the tape.” Archie's eyes widened as he accidentally blurted over her question. He must’ve thought he had spoken too loud as he whipped his head around the room before leaning closer to Jughead. “Do we tell her that we-,” he stopped and swallowed, “-what we heard?”

“No.”

Jughead barely let Archie finish the question. His face darkened as he stared Veronica and Archie dead in the eye. “No. She does not need to know.”

He may not have been able to keep her safe before, but he could at least try to keep her safe from something now.

Archie and Veronica exchanged a quick glance, Veronica looking as though she wanted to say something, but before she could, a door opened and the sound of footsteps filled the room. 

Jughead turned in time to see Alice break away from the huddle of adults and practically corner Dr. Patel as he emerged from the back.

Jughead, Archie, and Veronica sprang up and shuffled over, forming an eager crowd around the doctor. Cheryl and Kevin hovered as well.

“I assume you’re all here for Ms. Cooper?” Dr. Patel tucked his hands into his white coat as he scanned the small horde in front of him.

“Yes, and we’ve been waiting for over an hour! What have you people been doing? How’s my daughter?” Alice snapped, her bloodshot eyes burying into him. She looked the worst out of everyone there. She had stayed with Betty at the hospital in Cornwall and appeared as though she hadn’t tried to clean herself up, let alone sleep yet.

“She’s doing just fine right now. She has a separated shoulder, and then a gash on her leg and right side. Your daughter’s very lucky she was only mildly grazed by the bullet, we’re not sure if her body could have handled going into a full surgery.”

“What do you mean?” Alice asked anxiously.

“Well, we have her on a fluid drip right now for severe dehydration and some malnutrition, so we decided to do some further bloodwork to check for any signs of hypothermia or anemia, and I’m glad we did because we found something a bit more concerning instead.”

The energy in the air suddenly seemed a lot less excited. Jughead took a step forward, coming directly behind Alice and FP.

Dr. Patel eyed the line of eager teenagers, taking a few steps back and motioning for Alice to follow. She did, along with Charles and Kane, and their conversation became a whisper. Jughead strained his ears, but FP placed a hand on his shoulder, steering him and the rest of the teens further into the waiting room against their protests.

“I know you’re all anxious, but if the doctor wants to keep something private, let’s respect that.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Besides, it’s getting late, maybe you should all head home.”

“Dad, no. We need to stay,” Jughead pleaded, looking impatiently toward where Alice was now fussing at Dr. Patel, “especially if something’s wrong.”

“Dr. Patel _also_ said that she’s doing fine. He probably just wants to keep some of the more sensitive information between the family.”

“But we _are _the family,” Jughead reasoned. “And Agent Kane isn’t.”

“He probably needs to know for their reports.”

“And you don’t?”

“They’ll read me in.”

“Dad.”

“Jughead.” FP groaned and rubbed his face. “We’re all stressed. Just be patient, okay? Seriously, you guys should head home.”

“Mr. Jones, you should know by now that, sheriff or not, you can’t get us to leave,” Archie professed.

“Archie David Andrews!”

Everyone jumped. Mary Andrews was stamping her way through the waiting room, her face an indistinct read.

FP lifted an eyebrow and blew a short whistle. “Well, maybe I can’t, but I sure bet she can.”

“Mom-,” Archie’s voice muffled as Mary engulfed him in a hug. She reached out and pulled Veronica in too, only withdrawing when Archie began to squirm and melodramatically gasp for air.

“Are you okay?” Mary held onto his shoulders, giving him a once-over.

“I’m fine. We’re all fine.”

Mary’s eyes drifted over the group of teenagers before settling back on Archie. “Good,” she said, nodding slowly, a deep frown materializing. “Because you’re about to not be.”

Archie’s face dropped and he and Veronica shared a look.

“What were you thinking? Disobeying and following a _federal_ _agency_? And over international borders no less!” Arms were being waved now. “You could’ve been hurt! And how do I find out? A note on the fridge!”

Jughead cringed and glanced at his friend. “Archie.”

Archie huffed defensively at him. “We were rushed.”

“And you-,” Mary turned in FP’s direction. “His note said that you approved this.”

FP put his hands up in concession. “Mary, I’m sorry. Yes, I told them they could come, but I never intended for them to be in harm’s way. I didn’t know they’d run off on their own.”

“They _what?"_ She sent another angry eyeful toward her son as FP ran a hand through his hair. “Have you met our children, FP? Come on, Archie, we’re leaving.” Mary began to pull him toward the front doors.

Archie startled forward but looked back worriedly at Veronica and the others. “Wait no, Betty-,”

“-is not awake yet.” Charles finished Archie’s sentence, walking up to the group. “The doctors said she probably won’t wake up until sometime tomorrow. So it might be good for everyone to go home for the night.”

Archie let out a discouraged huff, giving Veronica a quick hug before walking out of the hospital behind his mom. FP mouthed a quick “thank you” to Charles.

“Well, if that sorry summary is all the information we’re getting tonight, then we might as well go. TT’s probably worried sick anyway.” Cheryl grabbed her jacket and promptly spun toward the door. “Kevin. Come along.”

Kevin stifled an eye roll. “Glad one of us seems to be doing alright,” he mumbled. “Come on, Veronica, I can give you a ride, too.”

Veronica nodded, then turned to Jughead. “If you learn anything else, let us know. Please?” Her eyes looked pleadingly up at him. Jughead nodded and she gave him a quick hug before following after Kevin.

The waiting room was suddenly a lot emptier and a lot quieter. It was just Jughead and Charles now, as FP had ambled back over to Alice. Jughead laced his fingers together as they both sat down.

“So,” he began warily, raising his head, “is it anything serious? Does she have a complication with the gunshot wound or something?”

Charles raised an eyebrow. “Jughead, the doctor wants to keep it confidential.”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve been giving me bits and pieces of confidential information this whole time. No need to stop now.”

Charles pursed his lips and eyed Jughead, eventually letting out a long sigh. “From the sounds of it, and from the intel we already have about his practices, it seems Edgar was using a homemade anesthetic on Betty, and there are still traces of it in her system. That’s why it took them so long to get her situated here – they had to figure out what they could safely give her.”

Jughead rocked in his seat. He rested his chin in his hands, his eyes burning holes into the floor. His fear from before didn’t feel much like paranoia anymore. “Homemade?” he sneered, his temple beginning to throb. “God, he never cared if he hurt her. And it’s still in her system?”

Charles nodded. “Which means he must have used it recently.”

Now both were staring down at the floor.

“Now? You want me to go with you _now_?”

Alice’s voice carried into the room as she tramped behind Agent Kane. She somehow looked even more disheveled than before.

“We have to get started on closing the investigation with The Farm. You’re the asset and have the information we need. The abduction is just one part – a big part-,” Kane emphasized as Alice threw him a merciless glare, “-but we have other people that need help, that need to get home – like your other daughter - and you can help us expedite the process.”

Alice narrowed her eyes, seeming to consider that.

“I can stay here with Betty if you need to go,” Jughead quickly offered, “I’ll make sure she isn’t alone.”

Alice stared at Jughead. And then she blinked. She just kept blinking, and then slowly started to shake. The shake turned to a sob and she reached for the back of a chair. Charles and FP rushed beside her, the latter wrapping his hands around her shoulders.

“I left all of you alone,” Alice choked, looking at Charles. “I left Betty behind, I abandoned you, I abandoned Polly… and I just watched one of my kids nearly be executed by a man I was supposed to stop.” She sucked in an unsteady breath. “She won’t want to see me.”

“That’s not true.” Jughead was suddenly on his feet, his anger slipping underneath rising empathy. “She’s really missed you.”

“When was the last time you slept?” FP asked quietly.

“What? Oh, I don’t know,” Alice replied a bit breathlessly. “That doesn’t matter-,”

“It does to me,” FP interrupted, staring her in the eye. “Maybe you should go. I can take you home for the night.”

“No,” Alice answered, straightening herself. “No, Kane’s right, I need to go with the FBI. There were other people left behind, maybe I can at least help them.” She turned and joined Agent Kane at the lobby entrance.

Charles gave FP one last sympathetic look before making his own way toward Kane and Alice, “I’ll make sure she gets some sleep.”

FP nodded appreciatively, watching as the three disappeared out the door and then turned to Jughead with a heavy sigh. “I have to stop by the station, but then I’m heading home. JB’s been left alone for over a day.”

“She’s probably been enjoying that.” Jughead gave a faint smirk and FP returned with an indignant, yet slightly amused stare.

But then his smile dropped, and his eyes grew tired. His whole face suddenly looked older, heavier. He waited for his dad to say more, but he never did; instead, he just patted Jughead on the shoulder and turned to leave.

Jughead stared after him, his own fatigue now growing heavy. After a moment he turned and joined Dr. Patel, and the two began down the long and quiet halls of the hospital.

* * *

Archie swung his door open as soon as he felt the car come to a stop. The ride home had been silent and awkward and all that was running through his head was that his truck was still at the hospital.

“Archie.”

He bounded up the front steps and onto the porch.

“Archie!” A hand wrapped around his arm, and he stopped and turned. Mary’s eyes were glowing and, mixed with the sharp yellow of the porch light, he couldn’t decipher if it was because of worry or anger. “Talk to me.”

“Mom, I’m not going to apologize for going,” he maintained, crossing his arms.

Mary looked at him dejectedly. “I couldn’t reach you, I couldn’t reach FP… I just had to sit and wait. I had to wait to hear if my son was okay. It was reckless! You could’ve been killed out there!”

Archie snorted agitatedly, “But I wasn’t, okay? I wasn’t worried about me. Betty was the one almost killed! If we hadn’t found her when we did, she-,” the thought caught abruptly in his throat. He turned his face toward the ground, his lip beginning to quiver. He tried to push it down, but then he caught a glimpse of his shoes.

“Mom.” He fell against Mary’s shoulder, tears beginning to stain her sweater.

Her stance relaxed and she wrapped her arms around him, stroking the back of his head. “Coach Clayton said you’ve been missing practices,” she said gently, “you’ve spent so much time at the center. And I’ve heard you up in the middle of the night.” Mary paused and Archie could feel his tears streaming uncomfortably down his face. “Did they catch everyone?” 

He nodded against her shoulder.

“Then no one’s out there anymore. Everyone that hurt her and you is behind bars. Please, Archie, no vigils this time. No staying up unless I can do it with you. Don’t hurt yourself and say it’s helping. Can you promise me that?”

They pulled away from each other and Archie wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “I can try,” he said achingly.

He reached for the handle of the front door. He could hear Vegas scratching at the baseboard and suddenly wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed.

Mary placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re safe, but you really need to stop rushing into danger like this. I know you had good intentions, but you’re not bulletproof, Archie.”

“I know, Mom,” he whispered, staring ahead at the door, his face still red. “It just… it hurts.”

She squeezed his arm. “You can skip school and go to the hospital tomorrow. But after that - we’ll talk.”

He nodded wearily, cracking the door open. Vegas rushed around his feet, yipping happily as Archie stooped down, wrapping the pup in a grateful hug.

* * *

Kevin threw his keys into the basket in the foyer, slowly shutting the door behind him. He rubbed his knee as he walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, absently scanning its contents. The running, wrestling and long day of driving was catching up to him, yet at the same time, he didn’t feel very close to sleep.

“Hey, champ. Nice brace.”

Kevin jumped, whipping his head toward the dining room. Tom was sitting at the table, swirling a glass that now held mostly ice. 

“Hey Dad, nice… bruises.” Kevin lowered himself into a chair, gaping at the array of black and blue covering his dad’s face. “What happened?”

“Prison riot.” Kevin’s eyes widened. “Don’t worry, you should see the other guys.” Tom gave him a side smirk before moving his eyes down to Kevin’s knee. “I should be asking you the same thing, though. You didn’t tell me you got hurt on your little adventure.”

Kevin grimaced. “It’s not so bad, really. You should see the other guys.” He gave a hesitant smile back.

Tom let out a quiet chuckle as he took another sip of his drink. He placed the glass down, staring at the table. “How’s Betty doing?”

“Good.” Kevin bobbed his head, wrapping his fingers around the water bottle he had pulled from the fridge. “The doctors said she’s going to be okay.”

Tom nodded, turning his head. “And you?” he asked in a firm but warm voice, “are you going to be okay?”

Now Kevin looked down at the table. He scratched nervously at the wood with a fingernail, his other hand wrapping tighter around the water bottle. He looked into his father’s concerned eyes, suddenly realizing that his exhaustion wasn’t physical.

He let out a deep sigh, “Dad, I haven’t told you everything about last spring. About The Farm,” he began in a whisper, his hand instinctively drifting to his side, “and tonight may have reopened some old wounds.” He looked up. “You have time to talk?”

* * *

Blurry. The whole world was blurry.

Betty slowly blinked, her eyes finding themselves staring up at a blurry ceiling. She inhaled gradually, the cold air filling her stinging lungs, a shiver running down her body.

She had been in the woods. Edgar had had a gun. Jughead, Archie, Veronica… her mom, the FBI… everyone had been there. Edgar had been taken away. And then… had she passed out? Where was…?

Betty shifted, realizing she was lying in a bed. She lifted her head, trying to get a better look around the dark room, but she could only make out a few shadows. All of her muscles were heavy, and she was rather groggy, which felt a lot like…

No.

A wave of panic seized Betty. She knew this feeling. She was coming out of sedation.

She groaned. Everything in the woods had just been another dream. She was back in the cabin. In the tiny bedroom. Where she had woken up each time after one of her ‘trips.’

Betty wrinkled her face as she pushed her head back into the pillow and felt something tickle her neck as she did. She winced and let out a soft whimper as she reached a hand up to it. But something tugged at the back of her hand and she winced again, unable to tell what it was in the dark. Her heart pounded harder as she tried to move her other hand but found her whole left arm to be stuck. Betty started squirming, a chill involuntarily running down her body, and let out a small cry.

“Hey, hey! You’re okay, you’re safe. Everything’s okay.”

A small lamp clicked on to her right and Betty squinted against the sudden light.

She looked around again. She wasn’t in the cabin. This was a hospital room. Her arm wasn’t stuck, it was just in a sling, and there was a small breathing tube running from her nose that was lightly brushing up against her neck.

“No trying to rip out your IV line like they do in the movies, okay?”

The gentle voice spoke again and Betty turned.

Jughead.

Jughead was smiling at her through bleary eyes.

“Hey there,” he said softly, leaning up against the rail on the bed.

This was not a dream.

“Jug…?” Betty’s throat felt like sandpaper, and her voice sounded just as scratchy. “Agh, water.”

Jughead nodded quickly and reached for a pitcher that was sitting on the same table holding the lamp. He poured a glass and held it to her mouth as she tried to reposition herself as best she could. A few places on her body throbbed fitfully as she did.

“Are you cold? Do you need a blanket?” Jughead asked as he pulled the glass away, trading it instead for a tousled blanket that was strewn across his chair.

Though he didn’t even wait for a response, he was already up and spreading it over her. His shirt brushed up against her cheek and she took a deep breath. He smelled of coffee and pine, like a memory of late-night Christmas decorating, and she began to relax.

“The doctors said you wouldn’t wake up until tomorrow,” Jughead stated as he slumped back into his chair.

Betty gave him a faint smile. “Well, you know me. Always exceeding expectations.” He sniggered and Betty gave the room another inspection now that she was a bit more cognizant. “Are we still in Ontario?”

He smiled gently. “No, we’re actually in Riverdale.” Betty looked at him in surprise, but also in relief. “It’s actually pretty cool how you got back,” Jughead continued, “the FBI arranged an airlift for you.”

“Aw, I got to ride in a helicopter and I missed it?” She tried to laugh but coughed instead. "Ow."

There was a jab of pain on her right side and her hand instinctively went down to it. She was surprised when she found a wad of gauze stretching around her torso. She remembered a bullet ripping through her jacket, but she hadn’t remembered it connecting. Betty pulled her hand away from the ticklish material and looked up at the ceiling.

The two lapsed into a comfortable silence. Jughead was resting his head against the railing, rubbing a hand on Betty’s good arm as she continued to blink up at the dark ceiling.

“Jug?”

“Yeah?”

“What day is it?”

“I think it’s Monday.”

“No, what’s the date?”

“Oh, uh, it’s past midnight, so… November 11th.”

“Huh.”

They fell silent again.

There was a faint, steady beeping in the room and the orange lamplight was casting a warm, hazy glow. Betty was struggling to keep her eyes open.

“Hey, Betts?”

Jughead’s tone was still gentle, but Betty could hear the worry in his voice. She turned and found him with his chin resting on top of the arm he had draped over the side of the bed.

“Can I ask you just one question about everything? I know you’re tired, but can I know just one thing for now?”

Betty’s chest tightened again, but she swallowed and nodded, trying to get her expression to match the sincerity she saw in Jughead’s eyes.

“Do we need to prepare for new nightmares?”

Betty bunched up the sheet in her hand and tugged it up to her chin. She glanced down, her eyes tracing all the wrinkles and creases in the sheets. “Old ones, too,” she whispered.

Jughead frowned, squeezing her arm. Betty could tell he wanted to ask more, but for now, he simply leaned across the bed and kissed her on the forehead.

“Jug?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you one thing?”

“Anything.”

“Could you put some music on?”

“Of course.”

He reached for his phone, tapping it a few times until a soft song drifted into the room. He pushed his chair as close to the bed as he could and laced his fingers between hers. Betty felt cold metal brush up against her palm and opened her hand. A silver chain and key pendant glinted back at her.

A lump formed in her throat, and she saw Jughead give her a teary-eyed smile as he settled himself more comfortably into his chair. She let the necklace drop onto the bed and curled her fingers between his, relaxing back into the pillows, and the two sat together under the glow of the lamplight until the gentle melody lulled both of them back to sleep.

* * *

Archie and Veronica walked down the halls of the hospital, the soft morning light trickling over them from the high windows.

“How long are you grounded for?”

“Two weeks starting tomorrow,” Archie moaned, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie as the two turned the corner to the waiting room. “I can only spend one night a week at the community center, and I have to make up the missed practices. Other than that, I’m stuck at home.”

“Well, I guess there’s one perk to having both parents in jail; no groundings.” Veronica grinned, taking a sip of her coffee.

Archie huffed. “Did you ever even get grounded before? All I remember is you and your mom dancing around each other until you both actually agreed to talk.”

Veronica shrugged. “Same thing.”

Archie smirked and rolled his eyes. He was feeling better after last night, and it seemed Veronica was too.

“Hey, Archie! Veronica!”

Kevin was calling to them from across the room. He was with his dad, who also stood and walked over.

“Looks like we all had the same idea. Not exactly how I pictured a senior skip day, but I’ll take it.” Kevin smiled. He was much cheerier this morning as well, almost looking fully like his old self. At least the initial shock seemed to be wearing off of everyone.

“Mr. Keller!” Veronica exclaimed, causing Archie to snap his head. “What happened?”

Tom sighed and tilted his head. “Your father happened.”

Veronica’s face rose into a triumphant smirk. “I knew he was up to something!”

“And don’t worry, it backfired.” Tom winked at Veronica before turning to Kevin. “I’m going to grab a coffee, want one?”

“Yes, please.” Kevin nodded.

Archie and Veronica looked after Mr. Keller briefly, then Archie turned back. “You seem better, Kevin.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I am. I cleared the air with my dad last night. Which-,” he knit his brow, looking between Archie and Veronica, “I’d also like to apologize to you two. For saying all those things back at the beginning of this. I was horrible to you guys. Can you forgive me?”

Archie shot Veronica a quick glance, then nodded at Kevin. “Of course, Kev. But I think the real person you need to be apologizing to is down the hall.”

Kevin looked away then back at Archie with a sheepish expression. He nodded. “And I will.”

He sat back down. “But, I’ll let you guys visit first before I have my time.”

Archie and Veronica nodded, turning down the hall. Archie was the first to reach the door, and as he did, he peeked through the small window into the room. He saw Jughead pressed up against the side of the hospital bed next to Betty, their hands hanging close together. Archie shifted his gaze up to Betty. She was hooked up to a few different machines he couldn’t name. She looked so small curled up next to them.

He pulled himself away from the window, scrunching up his forehead before turning back to Veronica. “Jughead’s with her. They’re both asleep.” Veronica stood on her tiptoes, trying to see around him.

She sighed. “Guess it’s back to waiting, then.”

Archie started bouncing on his feet and looked around. They had been sitting on their hands for so long, and now he felt like he could finally do something for Betty instead of just waiting around. He didn’t want to do more waiting.

He wracked his brain, the soft din of the bell at the front desk meeting his ears as it floated down the hall. Archie stopped, looking from the door to the hall, then back again, a smile curling onto his face.

“We might not have to wait, I have an idea,” he said, pulling a confused Veronica back down the hall toward the entrance. “Come on!”

* * *

_Bringg._

The first-period bell clanged through the halls and students ambled away from lockers and into classrooms. Cheryl and Toni made their way to the back of homeroom, brushing past Mrs. Culver’s hurried salutations, and grabbed two desks next to each other. The final warning bell sounded as Cheryl laid out her English textbooks, poking meticulously at them until they were all in line.

Toni watched, tapping her own desk with the tip of her pencil. A small crackle spouted from the school’s PA system and the principal began to drone on with the morning announcements.

“Cheryl, why’d you want to come to school today?” she whispered, eyeing her girlfriend as she continued to shuffle her books.

“Keeping up academic prowess has always been important to me. It’s even more so now that colleges are keeping an eye on us.”

“Babe,” Toni sighed, “we’ve already been accepted to Highsmith. Missing a handful of days isn’t going to do anything to that. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” she uttered, pushing a pencil up and down her desk.

“Cheryl,” Toni said more sternly, placing a hand on Cheryl’s. “You came home last night after literally going on a rescue mission – which, invite me next time – and acted like everything was fine.”

“_And now students, before we begin the day, if you would, please give your attention to Sheriff Jones.” _

The principal’s voice briefly boomed over the intercom before being replaced by FP’s. Cheryl and Toni both looked toward the front of the room.

“_As most of you know, there’s been an open and ongoing case involving your classmate Betty Cooper. I’m relieved to inform you all that Betty was found early Sunday morning and is currently in recovery. All parties compliant in her abduction have been apprehended. I’d like to give a special thank you to those who have contributed information throughout this investigation. If you have any further questions, or if you would like to inquire about visitation for Ms. Cooper, please see Mrs. Phillips in the front office. Thank you.” _

The intercom clicked off and the room filled with excited chatter. Mrs. Culver tried to shush everyone, but gave that up quickly and began to write on the chalkboard.

Toni leaned back toward Cheryl. “Let’s skip out at lunch and head over to the hospital. It looks like everyone might already be there anyway.” She bobbed her head toward a handful of empty seats around the room.

“Sure. If that’s what you want.”

Toni raised an eyebrow at her girlfriend. “Cher, what’s up? You were just there last night and now you’re acting as if nothing happened. I know you. You’re avoiding something.”

Cheryl glanced around the room and Toni noticed her eyes darken. She fiddled nervously with the pencil on her desk again. “I-,”

“Okay class, please open your textbooks to page 394,” Mrs. Culver called, spinning around to face the students as the gossip died down. “We’ll be continuing in our British literature section with ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’ today. Would anyone like to begin by reading the first few stanzas?”

“I will!” Cheryl’s hand shot up as she whipped her head around to the front of the room. She threw Toni one last side glance before swinging open her textbook. Toni sighed, staring after with concerned eyes before flipping open her own book.

* * *

Jughead paced in slow circles around the small room, stretching his arms and legs as he went. As far as beds went, hospital chairs weren’t the best. He yawned and pulled out his phone, scanning the long list of text messages that had overtaken his screen.

A small knock on the door shifted his attention and he looked up to see FP enter the room.

“Hey,” he said quietly, “how’s she doing?”

They both glanced at Betty, who was still asleep, her chest rising and falling to the steady beeping of the monitor next to her bed. “Good. She woke up for a bit last night.”

FP nodded and lowered himself into one of the chairs in the corner of the room. Jughead followed. “That’s great. I stopped by the school this morning to break the news.”

“Ah, that would explain all the texts.” Jughead shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Have you seen Archie or Veronica? I texted both of them last night and thought they’d be here by now.”

FP shook his head. “No, the Kellers are the only ones that I’ve seen. Maybe they’re still asleep too, it’s been a long few days. Which, I’m heading home in a bit, you should come with me. You need to change and maybe you could grab Betty a few things, too.”

Jughead rubbed his face. “Not until her mom comes back. Not until someone else can sit with her.”

FP sighed and sank back against his chair. Jughead stared at the floor, watching one of his feet tap rapidly against the tile. “Dad,” he began hesitantly, “what happens next?”

He raised his head, finding a sympathetic look on his dad’s face. “I’m not entirely sure, Jug. That’s probably a better question for Charles. On our end, there’s a lot of cleanup and paperwork to do. Especially since this extends beyond Riverdale. As for Betty, well, she’s not out of the woods yet.

Jughead bounced his arm on the edge of his chair. He knew.

He shook his head, switching the subject. “Did you get in trouble for letting us come along?”

The same tired, worn appearance from the night before returned to FP’s face. “I’m not sure yet, Jug. I’ll be under review this week. There’s a chance I’ll be suspended for a while, possibly even terminated.”

Jughead snorted, “That’s not fair! You may have let us come, but we’re the ones that ran into danger. You were trying to keep us out of it.”

“I know, Jughead, but the responsibility is mine.” FP leaned forward, clasping his hands together. “I was already hired under odd circumstances with Hermione, and that doesn’t even include my list of priors. Hell, the fact I got hired at all was a miracle. Now my fate is in the hands of the powers that be again. And you know that Mayor McCoy’s opinion of me is still spotty at best.”

Jughead looked FP straight in the face. “Well, I believe in you, Dad. No matter what I may have said out of anger before, I believe in you.”

FP’s mouth curled into a gratified smile. “I know you do, Jug. But I might need a bit more than my son’s championed opinion of me for this.”

“Well, if my opinion counts for anything, I think it was a good idea.”

Jughead and FP twisted their heads; Betty was trying to pull herself up into a sitting position on the bed, wincing as she attempted the move with only one good arm. Jughead immediately moved next to her, putting a hand behind her back to help.

“Hey, Betty,” FP’s tone softened as he rose from the chair, sliding his hands into his pockets as he shuffled toward her. “How you feeling?”

“Sore,” Betty responded, rubbing her neck and shoulder. Jughead handed her another glass of water and she took it gratefully. There were still sunken bags under her eyes and she was pale, but he could also see a familiar twinkle beginning to reappear in her eyes. And that made him smile.

“Is my mom here?” she asked, her eyes nervously darting to the door and back.

“She went with Charles to answer a few questions. I’m sure she’ll be back any minute,” FP reassured.

“And Archie and Veronica will be here soon, too,” Jughead added, not wanting her to worry about the absence of her other friends.

Just then, Dr. Patel entered the room. “Good to see you awake this morning, Ms. Cooper. How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good,” Betty answered.

“Any dizziness or disorientation?”

Betty shook her head.

“That’s good to hear. The fluids are doing their job, then. And here, let me get rid of this for you now that you’re awake.” Dr. Patel stepped forward and carefully removed her breathing tube. Betty gave a sharp intake of breath as the tube slid away from her nose, but she soon relaxed again. Jughead continued to gently rub her shoulder.

The sound of muffled squabbling and piercing footsteps suddenly echoed down the hall and soon, Alice was pushing her way into the room, mumbling something about incompetent nurses. Her hair was neatly brushed and she was wearing one of her signature pant suits, her heels clicking against the hard tile floor.

Looks like she had gotten that sleep.

FP quickly straightened up, throwing his shoulders back. Jughead raised a prying eyebrow.

But Alice only momentarily passed her gaze over FP and Jughead before resting it on her daughter. "Oh, honey… look at you.” Her face screwed up as she lowered herself into the chair next to the bed, grabbing Betty’s hand. “Are you okay? Is she okay?” Alice looked to Dr. Patel with shaking eyes.

“I’m okay, Mom.” Betty’s eyes slightly glistened as she answered. Jughead slipped behind Alice and walked back over to his dad, not wanting to get in between her and Betty.

“She’s doing just fine,” Dr. Patel assured, stepping forward. Alice squeezed her daughter’s hand as Dr. Patel turned back toward Betty. “Now, Betty, I need to ask you a few questions, so we can do our best to treat you. Is that alright?”

Betty threw Jughead an anxious glance, but turned back to Dr. Patel and nodded. “Let’s start with your shoulder. Can you tell me when you injured it? The X-ray showed the ligaments may have torn prior to what happened two nights ago.”

Jughead’s own shoulders tensed and he returned the anxious glance. “Yeah, it was hurt before everything in the woods, it just got re-agitated after I landed on it,” Betty answered. “The original injury was on Halloween.”

Jughead’s stomach began to churn and Dr. Patel’s voice faded away as he turned his eyes to the ground. There was so much he didn’t know. A whole timeline to knit together from bits and pieces like this.

Jughead noticed his father squirm too, an uncomfortable look crossing his face as his eyes darted between Betty and Dr. Patel. Jughead knit his brow and leaned closer to FP. “Are you okay?” he asked in a small whisper. FP threw an arm over Jughead’s shoulder in response, steering him toward the door. “Come on,” he whispered back, “we don’t need to be here for this. I think it’s time to head home.”

Jughead silently agreed and both he and FP glanced uneasily back at Betty, who was nodding at Dr. Patel’s continued questions. He swallowed and turned forward, letting his dad guide him out of the room.

Perhaps none of them were out of the woods yet.

* * *

Veronica stared out the window of Archie’s truck as they drove across town. The sun was shining higher in the sky and she let out a deep sigh.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing or are you just going to wear that mischievous little grin and keep me in the dark the whole time?”

Archie flashed said grin. “You’ll know when we get there.”

She smiled. “While I appreciate you getting us out of sitting at the hospital all day, Jughead is asking where we are. I hope he doesn’t think we’re intentionally not there.”

“No, Jughead knows better. Just tell him that we’ll be back soon, we just went to go get something.”

Veronica typed up a reply then turned the phone over in her lap. She looked up at Archie and noticed that his grin had disappeared and he was glancing back and forth between her and the road.

“What?”

“Are you handling everything okay, Ronnie?” Concern had crept into his voice. “I mean, when my dad was in the hospital - even when your dad was - you had a hard time… being there. And you looked a bit relieved when I told you Betty was still asleep.”

Veronica sucked her lip and began to absently twirl her phone in her hands. The sun dipped behind a cloud, and she threw another quick glance out the window. “Grief and I have a complicated relationship. I don’t like acknowledging it.”

“I’ve noticed,” Archie offhandedly remarked.

Veronica threw him a begrudging eyebrow raise but relaxed after seeing he was still being sincere. He was right after all – she _had_ been relieved that Betty wasn’t awake. Which was aggravating, to say the least. It felt so wrong, especially since she hadn’t seen her best friend in a month. She didn’t think she was a bad friend, and she didn’t want to be one, the situation was just so… complicated.

“Hey,” Archie whispered, coaxing her out her thoughts. She realized a few tears were sliding down her cheeks.

“Sorry, Archie.” She wiped at her face. “It’s different than when our fathers were in the hospital. The doctor said Betty’s going to be fine, and she’s finally safe now. But, when we were walking towards her room, even when we were still in the waiting room, everything we saw in the woods just kept replaying in my head.”

Archie’s knuckles tightened around the steering wheel.

“And that’s not what I want to see when I’m trying to comfort my best friend. I don’t want that image of her in my head, Archie.”

“I understand that.” He pushed himself up in his seat. The sun slipped behind a cloud and Veronica turned to look back out the window.

“Do you think we’re making the right choice? By not telling Betty about the tape?” Archie’s question cut through the silence.

She let out another sigh. “I don’t know. On one hand, we’ve all seen how well keeping the truth from each other works out, but on the other hand, it might just hurt her more. It’s not her fault, but knowing B, it might mortify her if she knew we heard that.”

Archie’s brow scrunched up in distress. “I never thought about it that way. She definitely doesn’t need that right now.”

“No.” Veronica shook her head in agreement. “So, let’s just focus on whatever the secret task is at hand for now and let her know how happy we are she’s home, okay?”

Archie nodded and he and Veronica both resumed looking out the front window. The sun crept its way back out from behind the clouds, leaving Veronica to wonder - despite how much they were justifying it - if they were making the right choice.

* * *

Jughead slammed the door to the cruiser and bounded up the small steps to the house. Riding in an enclosed car had made him realize just how much he really did need a shower and change of clothes. And now he could grab Betty some things her mom hadn’t.

Which reminded him.

“So…” he eyed his dad as they reached the door. “Uh, are you and Betty’s mom…?”

“Jug.”

“It’s a legit question.” He lowered his eyes. “And besides… I know it’s one of the reasons Mom left.”

FP ran a hand through his hair and leaned against the door. “Even if Alice wasn’t in the picture, your mom and I still would’ve gone our separate ways. I know that’s hard, but it’s true.”

Jughead crossed his arms. From his conversations with his mother, she seemed to have known this as inevitable too. Maybe closure was what he had been looking for, too. Anyway, it’s not like his mother had just left this time.

“But what you’re saying is, she _is_ in the picture?”

FP huffed. “We haven’t had time to talk about… what we are. We had a moment up in Cornwall, but-,”

“Oh, _a moment,_” Jughead teased, raising another curious eyebrow at his dad.

“Probably not the best timing on my part. She went right back into mission mode.”

“Those Cooper women. They do that.”

“And it’s not like it’s entirely out of nowhere. We have history together.”

“I know, I’ve had cheeseburgers with him.”

“Alright, I shouldn’t have said anything.” FP shook his head, his face growing red. “I don’t know why I’m trying to justify this to you.” FP pushed open the door. Jughead smirked, walking into the house behind him.

“Wo-ah, JB. What did you do, throw a rager while we were gone?” Jughead smirked at his sister as he laid eyes on the mess in the living room. Bags of chips and empty candy wrappers were strewn across the furniture and floor. “There still better be food left in the house, I’m starving.”

“There is, don’t worry,” Jellybean answered from her spot on the couch. “And Dad already chewed me out for the mess. I’ll eventually clean it up.”

“Uh-huh.” Jughead walked over to her and pulled the slingshot out from his back pocket. She looked up at him with eager eyes and he held up four fingers to her as he sauntered past into the kitchen. “Oh come on, did you eat the rest of the Halloween candy?” he whined as he picked up an empty bowl off the dining room table.

Out of the corner of his eye, Jughead saw FP cringe and run a thumb along his eyebrow. “Dad, you okay?” he called as FP began to climb the stairs.

“Yeah. Just still a bit tired and on edge from everything. Come on, you should take a shower.” With that, FP disappeared up the stairs. Jughead wasn’t fully convinced he was telling the truth, but he left it alone. Instead, he shook it off and opened the fridge, turning his attention to his growling stomach.

* * *

Betty jerked her head, startling herself awake, and blinked around the hazy room. Twisting around, she found her mother staring quietly at her from the end of the bed.

“Uhf,” Betty stammered as she yawned, “did I fall asleep again?”

“Only for about twenty minutes,” Alice stated as she rose to pull the blinds open. “Dr. Patel changed out your IV bag and said you might feel a bit drowsy throughout the day. They’re trying to flush out your system so they can actually get you some painkillers.”

Betty lowered her eyes. Dr. Patel’s questions had turned from asking her about her injuries to trying to get specifics about Edgar's anesthesia. Apparently, there was still a high trace of a sloppy mixture of sedatives and opioids in her system. Betty cringed, still thinking about how Alice had flinched when she had said that the last time Edgar used it was three nights ago.

She could see in her mother’s eyes that she was blaming herself. She had seen it in Jughead’s eyes too, even if he hadn’t said it out loud. And that was hurting her.

Alice sat back down, leaning forward and rubbing her hands on her thighs.

The two continued to stare past each other, waiting for the other to speak. This is not how their reunion should have happened, they both knew it, but neither seemed to know where to start.

“Mom, it wasn’t your fault,” Betty finally said in a gentle voice.

“I didn’t know,” Alice tearfully spoke, her eyes meeting Betty’s. “I was so close… I’m supposed to have motherly instincts about these kinds of things, but I was so close and didn’t know.”

“Mom-,”

“I just let him torture you,” Alice continued, growing more distraught. “I watched him walk off with padlocks and food… and all those drugs. And I did nothing! I waited too long and-,”

“Mom!” Betty reached forward, grabbing her mom’s hand. “You didn’t do nothing. You got the FBI there. You made sure-,” she swallowed, feeling a pit in her stomach, “you made sure he didn’t hurt me in the clearing.”

Both faces grew red as both attempted to hold back tears. Alice stood and stared at Betty with quivering eyes before enveloping her in a tight hug. Betty wrapped her arm around Alice, not even caring that her shoulder was getting crushed, and leaned her head against her mother.

“Oh Elizabeth, I’m so sorry, I was just trying to keep all of you safe, but you were trying to keep me safe. I should’ve just told you what was going on. He should have never come after you.”

Betty closed her eyes, a few tears running down her cheeks, embracing her mother for, what not only felt like but what actually was, the first time in months.

* * *

Toni leaned against one of the benches outside the cafeteria, scrolling leisurely through her phone. She could hear footsteps clicking down the mostly-deserted hall and looked up to see Cheryl. 

“Hey, there you are,” she said, getting up. “Are you ready to go? Jughead texted and said Betty’s awake and taking visitors.”

Cheryl stopped in front of her but kept looking at the ground. She had her sleeves pulled down over her hands and was rubbing them together.

Toni furrowed her brow and frowned. “You okay?”

“I can’t go to the hospital.”

Toni tilted her head. Cheryl finally looked up, a withdrawn expression on her face. Toni adjusted her backpack, curling the straps in her hands. “Why not?”

Cheryl’s mouth trembled for a second before she answered in a reserved voice. “As much as I’m glad that Betty is okay, I can’t see her. When I was at the hospital last night, all I could think about was Edgar and my mother. I know it may sound silly, but seeing Betty feels like facing them. And I’m not sure if I’m ready for that.”

Toni softened her stance, giving Cheryl a sympathetic look. “It’s not silly.” She squeezed Cheryl’s arm encouragingly. “It just sounds like you’re still afraid. And that’s normal.” Toni frowned. “Did you see them?” she asked hesitantly, “Edgar and your mother?”

“Not my mother.” Cheryl shook her head. “She had already been dragged away. But Edgar, yes.” Her eyes became distant. “And TT, it was awful. He finally looked like the madman we know he is.” Cheryl’s dejection quickly turned to anger. “I can’t believe we ever thought of him as a confidant.”

Toni sighed. “We’re not the only ones who fell for him, remember that. Don’t get mad at yourself about it.”

"I'm not," Cheryl's eyes flashed at Toni. “I’m mad at him.”

“Hey,” Toni whispered, taking Cheryl’s hand, squeezing it until she could feel her relax. “We don’t have to think about him. And we don’t have to visit Betty today if you’re not up for it.” They began walking toward the cafeteria.

“I would like to see my cousin at some point,” Cheryl remarked, “I don’t want her to think I’m avoiding her. And I know you wanted to see her.”

“I don’t think she will. And I do.” Toni smiled, turning toward Cheryl as they rounded into the lunchroom. “But it’s okay, there’s always tomorrow.”

* * *

“You look cute in a hospital gown.”

“No one looks cute in a hospital gown.”

Betty gave Jughead a side smirk as he sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his thumb in circles on her palm. He had come back with a stack of books and clothes and a few other things from her room, including her journal.

She had really missed him.

“Well, I think you do, and I haven’t been able to call you cute in a while, so let me,” Jughead playfully quipped back.

“Fine, I’ll take it. At least it beats having to wear the same clothes for a month,” she said without thinking. Jughead’s eyes darkened and she bit her lip. “I’m sorry, it just slipped out.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize for that,” he said, a soft but concerned look spreading across his face. “I just hate that this happened. I hate that he hurt you.” He wrapped his hand tighter around hers.

The edge of Betty’s lip curled as she watched Jughead trace the long, white scar snaking up her arm. When he looked up though, his anger had disappeared and there was nothing but admiration in his eyes.

“But no matter what, scars and all, Betty Cooper, I think you’re beautiful,” he whispered, kissing her. Betty leaned into it, a warm chill running down her back. She had _really_ missed him.

“Eww, get a room.”

Betty and Jughead smirked as they pulled away from each other, turning toward the door. Kevin grinned lightheartedly as he entered the room.

“Well, we had one,” Jughead quietly teased as Kevin placed a bag of candy on the table.

“Kev!” Betty smiled as he took a seat. “Are those Reese’s cups?”

“Hi, Betty,” Kevin said, “It’s good to have you back. And of course, they’re your favorite.”

“It’s good to have _you _back,” she responded, noting how much happier he looked.

“Yeah,” Kevin bobbed his head, seeming to understand. “I finally took your advice and talked to my dad.”

“That’s great, Kevin. I’m happy for you.”

He nodded but continued staring at her dolefully, twisting his hands together in his lap.

“Something else you want to say, Kevin?” Jughead echoed the question that was in Betty’s mind.

Kevin hung his head and swallowed. “I’m so sorry, Betty. I was trying to take my pain out on everyone, including you. And you were just trying to help me.”

“It’s okay, Kev, I-,”

“No, Betty, it’s not okay!” Kevin exclaimed, throwing her a frantic look. She knew he didn’t mean to do it, but his inflection made her flinch slightly. Jughead nudged himself closer to her and Kevin frowned, sinking back. “See? I’ve been taking my anger out on other people, and it got worse when you disappeared. And Jughead-,” he turned his head, “I’m sorry about all that stuff I said at school. For dragging you through all that.”

“You’re forgiven, Kevin,” Jughead said, breaking open the bag of peanut butter cups. Betty kicked him, and he mischievously smirked back, popping one into his mouth. “Especially for that awful right hook.”

“Jughead!”

“What?” Kevin and Betty said simultaneously, looking at him disconcertedly. Jughead slowed his chewing, shrugging and nodding his head at Kevin. Betty flashed her eyes toward him.

“Uh, yeah,” Kevin disclosed, twisting his hands together again. “Jughead and I may have gotten into a fight at one point.”

Betty’s chest tightened slightly. Not only did her friends not know what she had gone through, but she realized she had no idea what they might have experienced because of everything.

“Everything is fine, I promise. I was just making a joke,” Jughead defended, noticing her tense up.

“Yeah, he’s right,” Kevin added. “I guess with all that, what I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you when you needed it.”

“Kevin,” Betty said firmly, pushing away the nerves that were attempting to creep up, “you did help me. I saw you out there with everyone else. Whatever happened between you two while I was gone-,” she swung her head between Kevin and Jughead, “-doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re showing up now.”

Kevin gave her a grateful smile, then looked at Jughead. “Hey, I got those for Betty!”

“Whaf? I’m humfgry,” Jughead said through a mouthful of chocolate.

“And I hope everyone else is too, because look what we brought!”

Everyone swung their heads as the door opened, and two people carrying bags of food and drink holders appeared.

“V! Archie!” Betty’s anxiety melted as her friends entered the room, beaming smiles across their faces. Archie handed her a large to-go cup he had been balancing in one hand.

“I had Pop make the biggest vanilla milkshake he could,” he chimed, also placing a burger and fries on the tray over her bed before pulling chairs up for himself and Veronica. Betty smiled back at him, wishing she could get up and give everyone proper hugs.

“Sorry we weren’t here earlier, B. You were still asleep and all Archie said was that he had an idea," Veronica said as she relaxed back into a chair.

“And it was a great idea. Thanks, bud.” Jughead slapped Archie on the back as he dropped the bag of peanut butter cups, shoving his hand into one of the Pop’s bags instead.

“How are you feeling, Betty?” Archie asked, grabbing his own drink and fries.

“Pretty good. My side stings, but it’s not too bad.”

“I still can’t believe you got shot.” Veronica shuddered.

“Not shot, just grazed,” Jughead corrected.

“Did it hurt?” Kevin continued, looking aghast.

“Honestly, I thought it had missed, I didn’t even feel it. There was so much… else going on.” Betty looked nervously away from Jughead’s gaze and saw Kevin’s knee brace. “Did that hurt?”

“Oh, this? It’s nothing.” He gave her a casual hand wave. “Cheryl and I ran into two Farm goons at some ranger outpost in the woods.”

Betty’s eyes widened. She hadn’t known they were out there. “Did the station have a bunch of maps and a radio?”

“Yeah, it did.” Kevin nodded. “That’s how we called FP. Uh…,” Kevin grew a bit awkward again, “and one of the guys we ran into mentioned that you had been there.”

Curious eyes were on her again as she nodded, and she felt her cheeks growing hot. “Yeah, I was. I managed to get out at one point. I made it to that outpost but got caught.”

“No way, how’d you get out? We saw the cabin.” Archie’s eyes widened and Betty tensed up again, wrapping her hand tighter around her cup. Jughead noticed, and she watched him throw Archie a quick glare out of the corner of her eye.

“I made a lockpick,” Betty answered quickly, trying to break the tension she could feel growing amongst them. “From a bedspring.”

"Okay, MacGyver," Veronica said, sounding impressed. Jughead and Kevin looked mesmerized as well.

“Geez, that’s insane.” Archie ran a hand through his hair. “You didn’t run into any bears out there did you?” he teased, Veronica lightly smacking him on the arm.

“No, no bears, Arch,” Betty answered as she bit into her burger, thankful for the joke. “Wow, this is good,” she breathed, alternating to her shake, realizing how hungry she was.

“Hey now, careful. You still have to pace yourself,” Jughead reminded her, placing a hand on hers.

“Says Jughead Jones,” Veronica mocked.

“You have to let your system flush, not give it a sugar crash,” he continued, ignoring Veronica’s comment.

“You’re right, sorry,” Betty swallowed, setting her cup down. “I just haven’t eaten anything in a while.”

Archie and Veronica turned their eyes to the floor and Betty quickly bit her lip. “Uh, I mean, I haven’t eaten anything this good in a while.”

“No, B,” Veronica stressed, a fiery look in her eyes, “Don’t apologize. You don’t have to justify anything to us. What happened to you was awful.”

“Yeah, you don’t need to be embarrassed by it,” Archie offered. “It wasn’t your fault.” Jughead seconded that by squeezing her knee.

She started nibbling at her fries in response and slowly passed her gaze over everyone. They were all giving her warm, supportive smiles, and she knew that was supposed to be making her feel better, but for some reason, she was now starting to feel worse.

They lulled into silence as everyone turned to their food.

“So, Arch, how’s the community center going?” Betty asked, turning the subject, trying to shake the anxiety that was now rising.

“It’s actually going really well! A few bumps in the beginning. But really good.”

“One of the kids is practically glued to him,” Veronica beamed, “You’ll have to meet him at some point.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun.” Betty nodded, taking another small sip of her shake. She noticed her hand shaking slightly and quickly put down the cup.

“My dad got a job at Mr. Lodge’s prison,” Kevin noted, looking down at Veronica.

“And he stopped _my_ dad from overthrowing said prison," Veronica added, returning the look toward Kevin.

“Wow, okay, you’re definitely going to have to catch me up on that.” She winced through the words, feeling her side begin to throb. Was she getting sick? Was she having a reaction? She glanced at her monitor, but it looked normal.

“Archie finally got an A on an English paper.”

“Hey!”

“What? I’m not making fun of you.”

Betty managed a small laugh, but she wasn’t entirely listening.

“Jellybean got a hold of the siren controls in the cruiser on the way to school one day. I’ve never seen so many middle schoolers jump at once.”

“There are a few football games left for the season. You should come when they let you out of here. There’s one next week.”

“And B! I could use an extra hand prepping for the winter formal. You have decorating committee experience, want to help?"

Betty nodded absently. All their voices were crashing over each other. She glanced down, trying to stop her head from spinning and, woah. She was suddenly aware of how vibrant the red marks on her wrists were, and how many bruises were peppered along her arms, and surely her face, too. And they were just there, lit up like a bunch of tiny neon signs for all her friends to see.

Surely, they were just being nice and not saying anything about it, right? There’s no way they hadn’t seen them.

“My mom came back. I’ll have to tell you all about that.”

“So did mine.”

“Yeah, but yours stayed.”

“Oh crap, Ronnie. We said we’d help you with your mom’s situation.”

“Betts, you okay?”

“Hey, are there any fries left?”

“Betty, you don’t look so good. Do you need me to get a nurse?”

The question bounced hollowly in her head. All their voices sounded distant. She looked around; they were all talking and laughing, passing around food and slurping their drinks. Just as they probably had while she was gone. Just like they had a million times before. Just like a normal day.

There was a pang in her chest, and Betty turned her head down. She stared at her milkshake, at the small line of melting whipped cream as it dribbled down the cup. And started to cry.

“We never got to have this,” she spluttered, tears streaming down her face.

The room grew hushed.

“We never got to have lunch,” she despondently repeated, squeezing her eyes shut. “I didn’t show up. I never made it.”

A deep sob broke free from where it had been hiding all day and Betty hung her head. There was a scraping sound in the room and suddenly there were four sets of arms around her. She opened her eyes, all her friends’ eyes glistening as well.

“Hey,” she heard Jughead whisper in her ear, “that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here now.”

She closed her eyes again, leaning into her friends and sobbing harder as they hugged her tighter.

Sometimes silence was all that was needed to tell a story. And sometimes tears could speak more eloquently than any word ever could.

* * *

Alice weaved her way through the maze of equipment and desks, barging past bewildered agents as she marched toward the middle of the room.

Kane, Charles, and a few other agents were huddled around a table sifting through stacks of files and photographs. Alice came right up behind them.

“Charles!”

He lifted his head, throwing Alice a questioning stare. “Alice, hey. Why aren’t you at-,”

He was cut off as Alice grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away from the rest of the group.

“Wait, Alice, I can’t just leave-,”

She whipped around, staring doggedly at him. “Is there going to be a trial?”

Charles stared at her a bit stunned, his mouth hanging open.

“Charles, answer me.”

He turned his face down, rocking on the balls of his feet. “Yes.”

Alice began to fervently shake her head. “No, no. That can’t happen.”

“Alice, don’t you want justice for all of this?” he hastily whispered.

“Of course!” Her eyes burned into him. “But not if it means Betty has to be in the same room as that monster again. I will not let him be near her again; near _any _of my children again.”

Charles stared up her, mixed emotions on his face.

“That monster has already taken too much from this family. There has to be another way.”

Charles glanced around the room before lowering his voice, “I’ll have to talk about the options with Kane, he knows more than I do. I know we have a lot of direct evidence, but we’ll still need victim testimony-,”

“Then I’ll testify for her!” Alice’s voice rose, echoing around the cavernous room. A few people looked up from their computers and phones. Agent Kane glanced toward them and Charles put his hands on Alice’s shoulder, pushing her a bit further down the hall.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Charles whispered ardently as Kane approached them, “but Alice, this is out of my hands; this may be out of the FBI’s hands.”

“Ms. Smith, we’re in the middle of private reports right now.” Kane abruptly appeared, eyeing both of them warily. “Do you need something?”

She shot Charles a stern look. “No, I got what I needed.”

“Then I’m going to have to ask you to leave while we finish these up. If we need you back for anything, we’ll let you know.” Alice nodded and followed him out, glancing back at Charles one last time as he nervously watched her walk away.

* * *

Betty watched quietly as a nurse unwrapped a BP cuff from her arm, giving an absent ‘thank you’ and smile as he checked her monitor before leaving.

She had grown fairly quiet after calming down, as did everyone else. Kevin had left pretty soon after with his dad, and then Archie and Veronica showed her pictures from the community center. Jughead had remained silent beside her, stroking her hand in small circles for a while.

But now, visiting hours had ended, and she was alone again. The day had turned to evening, and the room had grown quiet and empty. Her journal lay open on her lap, the blank pages waiting for her, but she was instead staring at the dying red light coming through the window.

The door creaked open and Betty flinched.

“Oh, sorry, did I startle you?” FP asked, hanging in the doorway.

“Oh no, you’re okay, Mr. Jones,” she said, seeing the discomfort cross his face.

“Just wanted to let you know your mom will be back in about 15 minutes. She’s staying here tonight.”

She gave him a small, tired nod. FP had volunteered to stay and stand watch over her room after visiting hours so she wouldn’t be completely alone. There was no need for an officer to stand guard with everyone in custody, but FP had adamantly insisted.

“Mr. Jones?” Betty called quietly as he began to close the door. He turned his head. “Can you turn the lamp on before you leave?”

“Yeah, sure,” he nodded, walking across the room. He flicked the lamp on, its light reaching into dark corners, fighting back the shadows she felt had begun to creep their way into the room.

“Need anything else?” FP asked.

“I’m good, Mr. Jones. I’m ready to be alone for a bit,” Betty replied, a hand running along her necklace. “Thank you though.”

He tipped his hat and turned. “If you do need anything, I’ll be right out here.” He shuffled away, but placed a hand on the doorpost, pausing for a second. “I’m glad you’re safe, Betty.” He faltered, turning back with guilty eyes. “Sorry I couldn’t help you sooner.” FP let out a heavy sigh, shutting the door behind him.

Betty stared after him, familiar knots beginning to curl in her chest. She turned toward the window, staring now into the black night that had overtaken the sunset. She moved her eyes to her still open journal, lifting the pen. But what ended up falling on the page wasn’t ink and she slammed it shut, her eyes continuing to blur. Swinging a pillow around, Betty clutched it to her chest, burying her chin into the soft fabric. She gazed distantly into the shadows that stretched into the room despite the light, gripping tighter as tears dripped down the pillowcase.

_There’s a distinct stillness that happens after a storm. _

_After the tempest roars its final fury, and the rain is nothing more than glittering remnants under a bright sun, the birds emerge from their hiding places and the trees shake the storm from their heavy branches. _

_There comes a quiet. _

_But quiet doesn’t always mean calm. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, as Jughead said, they're not out of the woods yet. They've got some new problems to handle. 
> 
> It was so hard to narrow down this chapter; there were so many different things that needed to happen and people to group together and directions that initially spiraled out of this. It took a while to reign it in. I had to kill a couple of scenes that I can hopefully recycle later on.
> 
> But boy, did it feel good to finally be able to write Betty interacting with someone other than Edgar again. So many dynamics left to explore and I'm really excited to see where everyone goes! 
> 
> As for when the next update will happen - I've still got a very much alive job seeing as I work in digital content and know how to live stream things. So, I'm slowly working in the background and will continue when I can. There's a lot of scenes that have started themselves for coming chapters and I'm really excited about some of them. So hopefully I can keep giving you some content in these uncertain times.
> 
> As always, let me know that you're reading! Leave a comment and tell me what you thought if you are so inclined. I love reading them!


	16. Message From Author

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, not an actual chapter.

Hey everyone,

I wanted to drop in here and just give you a little update.

I am still writing, albeit very slowly, this has not been abandoned! Just on a bit of an extended hiatus, but I promise I’m not just leaving the story.

After I updated the last chapter, I had a pretty close-to-home death in the family and I’ve been kind of down for the count since then. So I’m just now starting to feel better and back to normal since then.

But my attention and time have had to go towards other pressing issues other than writing as well. I’m in the process of transitioning out of my current job and going headfirst back into the world of job applications and everything that goes along with that. (Especially not that it’s a bit more unstable here in the US with how our gov’t has handled COVID, re: Poorly)

So other things are eating up my time right now, but I wanted to jump on here and give everyone a quick message saying that I am still writing in the background and I have full intentions of finishing this story!

So if you’ve been a faithful and continuous reader or are just finding this story for the first time, I want to say thank you! Thank you for being patient and sticking with me! And thank you for all the comments and feedback!

With that said, you can message me on here or leave a comment if you’d like to still let me know you’re there or to leave any feedback for coming chapters! I have most of it planned out, but if there are any character dynamics/scenes between certain characters I haven’t done much with or you would like to see, let me know so I can plan accordingly! Or any other story feedback!

Thanks so much, everyone! And thanks for sticking with me! And who knows, I may even throw the occasional one-shot out there between chapter waits just to let everyone know I’m still alive. My head hasn’t exactly been in writing mode for a while, so I have to have a way to slowly work my way back there and keep in practice.

-Skyrider


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